The Boy With the Bread
by ChelsieLynn
Summary: The Hunger Games from Peeta's point of view. This is based off the book, not the movie. I know this has been done a lot, but please read!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I do not own Peeta, Katniss, or the Hunger Games. Anything quoted from the book is the property of Suzanne Collins.**

The Boy With the Bread

Chapter One:

As the cool water runs down my face, I scrub the dried icing and flour out from under my fingernails. It takes some time but soon they are all spotless and shiny. I scrub my face and run my newly cleaned fingers through my hair. Bits of bread crumbs and flour swirl around the drain before disappearing into the abyss.

I suppress a shudder and shut off the water. Drying myself with the starchy towel, I take in my own reflection in the mirror. It's sickening. The way they make us dress up and parade us into the town square, just to await a death sentence.

My name is in ten times today. My stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought. If only we were rich enough not to need tesserae. No. That's not a fair thought. My name would still be in. However, the odds would be slightly more in my favor if I didn't need the tesserae to feed my family. I give a cold laugh. It's ironic really, the son of a baker not having enough to eat. I'm not the only one who's taken tesserae. Riley's name is in twelve times. I feel sick once I realize I've taken comfort in the fact that his name is in more than mine. I hate what the Hunger Games do to families. Rip them apart. Force parents to watch the slaughter and mutilation of their children.

"Hurry up, you cretin!"

My hand touches the scar on my cheek and I smile sadly. It's not like my family's close to begin with. I love my mother, I know. And my brothers. But the only one I feel close to is my dad. Maybe it's the way we both get lost in our work. Or the way everything else fades away when we hear the mockingjays sing.

Mokingjays. Singing. My hear skips a beat. Katniss. Suddenly a whole new wave of fear and anxiety wash over me. I hate this day all over again. How many times is her name in today? Twenty? Thirty?

My mother is yelling again. I quickly get dressed in my best clothes and head downstairs. Riley is ready, my mother fussing over his hair. My father and Hutch are gazing out the window. Detached from the world. Just like most family's are today. It's best to do that. To distance yourself from those you love. That way, it's not as hard when they're chosen. Hutch must feel relieved though. He turned nineteen last month. He's no longer eligible to be reaped. The tiny pieces of paper with his messy scrawl of a name are gone. The five of us walk the short distance from our bakery to the square. People are already packed in front of the Justice Building.

My father pats Riley on the back and squeezes my shoulder. Then he takes his place with my mother and Hutch in the crowd. Riley nods at me and takes his place with the other seventeen year olds. I glance once more at my family and then head to my position amongst the sixteen year old boys. I know most of them from school. But they look like strangers to me today. Their faces covered in fear or masked behind faked indifference.

I look across the square, as I've done every year since we were of reaping age, to the place where I know she stands. She's wearing her hair in the intricate braid, like always. She looks nervous, glancing from her sister, in the back, to her friend several rows in front of me, with the eighteen year olds. I think his name is Gale. Her sister's name is only in once, but Katniss looks scared out of her mind. Have Hutch or Riley ever felt that way about me during the reaping?

The anthem plays and I look toward the stage. They mayor steps up and reads the history of Panem. Then Effie steps up to the microphone and begins speaking in her Capitol accent. It makes my stomach churn. "Ladies first!" How can she sound so happy? So excited? She is about to effectively sentence an innocent girl, a child, to her death! Effie's bright pink nails flit around the bowl and she finally plucks a piece of paper. I dig my fingers into my hands. Please not her. Don't be her.

And it isn't.

It's her sister.

There's a moment of silence as her sister, Primrose, begins her nervous walk to the stage. I can't think straight. I know what's about to happen but my mind won't let me process it. I can hear screaming. No… she isn't going to… But I know she is.

I hear her voice as if from another world. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

I can't feel my hands. I'm digging my nails in so hard. My head is spinning and I feel sick. Haymitch is stumbling around on stage. I can't hear what's going on. Effie is floundering and the mayor is saying something. The words don't register. All I can hear is Katniss. Offering herself up for slaughter.

Only the sound of my name ringing across the square jolts me back to reality. "Peeta Mellark!" Peeta Mellark. I stumble forward still in shock over what just happened. I take the stage. The mayor begins speaking. I glance over at Katniss. She appears emotionless, bored even. I, on the other hand, must look terrified. The mayor finishes reading the Treaty of Treason and it's time for me to shake her hand. I swallow hard and push all my fears into the back of my mind. I look her right in the eye and squeeze her hand. I'll protect you, I think. I promise. That's the only thought in my mind. I'll do whatever I have to to protect her.

* * *

My mother is in the room talking about how District Twelve might have a winner this year. She talks about Katniss. Not me. I don't care. I'm not going into these Games trying to win. Hutch and Riley are saying things to me too. Advice? Goodbye? I'm not really listening. My ears don't seem to work properly.

"Peeta, are you listening to me!" My mother grabs my face in her hands and roughly turns it towards her own.

"What?"

"Take it. For your token." My mother awkward shoves a locket in my hands. I fumble it around in my fingers. I know this locket. It belonged to my father's mother. He had given it to my mother when they were married. And now my mother gave it to me. This may be the only true act of love my mother has ever shown me. I look up at her. Her face is red and she won't look at me. I don't know what to say.

"Mom..."

A Peacekeeper opens the door and begins herding my family from the room. At the last second my father hugs me. I hear his last words to me. Barely a whisper.

"Protect her, Peeta. I know you can." So he knows.

He steps away and I whisper, "Primrose." He nods and I know he understands. Protect her sister.

The door closes. I don't expect any other visitors but after a short moment the door opens again. Delly Cartwight walks in. I haven't spoken to her in ages. Guilt knots my stomach. And I'll never talk to her again, I realize. She's hugging me and crying.

"Oh Peeta. This is terrible."

"Delly, I'll be fine," I lie.

"You're going to die for her, aren't you Peeta?" So she knows too. Am I that much of an open book? Does Katniss realize my feelings as well? Delly pulls away from me and looks me in the eye. Yes Delly, I'm going to die for her. I can't bring myself to say this out loud. Not to Delly. She starts crying again and I hug her. The last time I'll hug my best friend.

"Delly, listen," I don't know what I'm going to tell her but I don't get a chance to decide. A Peacekeeper storms in and grabs Delly by the shoulder. As he guides her out of the room, she looks back at me and cries, "Be strong, Peeta! Be strong!"

The door closes and I am left alone. I start to cry. Not for myself, but for Katniss. Of all people to be reaped, it had to be her sister. And of course Katniss volunteered. She didn't deserve to be thrust into this blood bath.

I try to stop crying. Any second now some pristine looking Peacekeeper will come in and escort me to the car that will take me to the train. There will be cameras. Tears will show I am weak. But I can't stop. My mother's words echo in my mind. "She's a survivor." Yes. She is.

But I helped her.

My mind goes back to that cold day in the rain. It feels like a lifetime ago now. I had heard my mother yelling about those "brats from the Seam." I turned from the warm ovens where I was filling some of the days orders and took a few steps towards the door. A blast of icy wind cut my skin and blew the hair from my eyes. That's when I saw her, from under my mother's arm, leaning into our trash bin.

Katniss. I knew her from school. Had heard her sing when we were five. But had never spoken to her. But I knew. Even then. I knew, it was her, or no one. She was thin and pale. Dark circles ringed her eyes making her look far too old for an eleven year old.

The smell of baking bread drew me back into the kitchen. It made me feel sick. I knew what I was going to do. I waited for the door to close and I heard my mother coming back to the kitchen. For you, Katniss.

I drop two of the loaves into the fire as I attempt to pull them from the oven. The slap on the face comes quickly. It stings but I don't care. I hold back my tears.

"Stupid boy!" My mother shoves tongs into my hand. "Pull them out!"

I rake the loaves out from the fire. They are scorched black, but only on the surface. Inside they will be soft and warm.

My mother pushes me to the back door and shoves me into the rain. "Feed it to the pig, you stupid creature! Why not? No one decent will buy burnt bread!" The rain is cold but it soothes the throbbing under my eye. I've been hit before but today it doesn't bother me. I toss a few pieces of bread to the pig. Thankfully the front door chimes. I feel my mother's harsh gaze lift as she leaves me in the yard to tend to a customer. She's huffing about my worthlessness.

When I know she is gone, I take a step towards the apple tree. I had seen her slump down underneath it before my mother threw me out the door. For some reason I can't bring myself to look at Katniss. I follow the footprints in the mud and toss the loaves in that direction. I still cannot look at her. I hear her stir as she snatches up the loaves. I walk back into the kitchen…

I am brought back to reality by the sound of a Peacekeeper. "Let's go." I am jerked from the velvet sofa and propelled out of the room. I wipe the tears from my eyes but it's obvious I've been crying.

Stupid Peeta! Listen to Delly! You need to be strong. For Katniss. It's then that the reality of what I have decided to do hits me. I know I won't see District Twelve again. But this time, instead of facing a beating from my mother, I will die to save Katniss Everdeen's life.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Chapter 2 is finally up after some issues with my computer. I also revised a bit of Chapter 1 so you might want to check that out again. Reviews are welcome! As always, anything quoted directly from the book is not my work, it is Suzanne Collins'.**

Chapter Two:

We are standing in the doorway to the train. Cameras are flashing and red lights peer at me from the news cameras. They are soaking up our images, our faces, our emotions. A sideways glance at Katniss tells me she is void of emotion. She stares at the cameras, revealing nothing going on in her mind. I see my face on the screen. My eyes are puffy and red. Idiot. All the other tributes will see this, my potential sponsors, everyone. I must look like a sniveling weakling.

A thought comes to mind. There may be a way to use this to my advantage. If I can just get the story out to the people in the Capitol. If I can make them believe my tears are for her and not me. They may take pity on us, on her, and that may be enough to keep her alive. My heart starts to race. I try to keep my emotions under control but already plans are swirling around my mind. I don't want to use my feelings for Katniss as a game or use her as a pawn. But if that's what will keep her alive, I'll do it. I'll do anything.

Effie steers us into the train and I take one more glance at District Twelve, my home. We are guided a few cars into the train and Effie drops Katniss off at her room. I am then taken to mine.

I have to say, despite everything I am in awe. The room is even more extravagant than the Justice Building. The carpet is plush under my shoes and the first thing I do is take my shoes and socks off and dig my toes into the warm fabric. I laugh but there's no joy in it. It's just so weird. All this lavishness wasted on two kids about to die. But Katniss won't die. I'll make sure of it.

I take the rest of my clothes off and step into my private bathroom. It's so much nicer than the bathroom at home. Being the baker's son, I've had the privilege of comforts many people lack in District Twelve. We have a shower, unlike most families. But hot water, no. We don't have that. The shower feels so nice. I mainly want to clean my face and wash the thick gel from my hair. The warm water rejuvenates me and washes the fear and sadness of the day from me.

Once out of the shower, I wrap a soft, stark white towel around my waist. Back in my room there are drawers and drawers of exquisite clothes. I pick something simple. Black pants and a pale blue button down shirt. From my pile of clothes on the floor I pluck my mother's locket. I slip it over my head and tuck it into my shirt. I don't bother combing my hair. Some traces of the gel are still there and it still looks decent.  
Time for dinner. Effie knocks at my door and I let her in.

"My, don't you look handsome!" She pinches my cheek. If I was less civilized, I might have bit her. "Come now. You're in for a real treat!" _Really?_ I think. _Impending doom is a treat? Watching the love of my life fight to survive is a treat? Okay Effie. If that's your definition of a treat._

She leads me into the dining car. Again, the Capitol has wasted no expense here. The walls are paneled and shine like nothing in District Twelve ever has. The table is long and polished. Expensive, no doubt breakable, dinner wear is set at four places. "Have a seat," Effie tells me. "While I go fetch your counterpart." I nod and Effie leaves the dining car. A few moments later, the door slides open again. She can't have gotten Katniss that quickly. I turn to the door. Haymitch drunkenly stumbles in.

"'Sappenin'?" He mumbles.

"Dinner," I say.

Haymitch nods but I don't think he comprehended my words. "Gunna take nap." He laughs, attempts to salute me, and stumbles out the opposite end of the dining car, hopefully towards his room.

I am not left alone long. Effie returns with Katniss a short while later and the two sit opposite me. Effie looks at the empty chair on my left. "Where's Haymitch?"

"Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," I reply.

"Well, it's been an exhausting day," Effie says. I can tell she doesn't mind Haymitch's absence. Frankly, I don't either.

The first course of dinner arrives, carried in on silver platters. Even the plates we put our finest cakes on aren't this nice. First off is thick carrot soup. I've never been one for carrots, unless they're in a cake, but this soup is delicious. I've never had anything so rich and creamy. Across the table, I watch Katniss practically inhale her soup. I imagine I'm eating similarly. Effie tells us to pace ourselves. There's plenty of food and more to come. I don't listen. I've had enough stale bread and grumbling stomachs to last me a lifetime. Now, if she doesn't mind, I will engorge myself. It's the least I can do before I die for the Captiol's entertainment.

Next comes a large green salad. There are vegetables in here I've never eaten. I have my choice of several different dressings. I choose them all. Effie is chattering away about something but all I can hear is the lettuce crunching between my teeth and the eager clinking of forks.  
Finally the main course arrives. Lamb chops and mashed potatoes. It's wonderful. Effie starts talking again. "At least, you two have decent manners. The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion."

I raise an eyebrow. She was concerned about her digestion? I think back to last year. The two tributes were from the Seam so they probably hadn't had a meal that filled their stomachs in their entire lives. I've gone hungry, but never that hungry. I see Katniss looks livid and from then on she eats the rest of her meal and dessert with her hands. I refuse to use a napkin and instead wipe my mouth my shirt sleeves. Effie looks a little less pleased.

We are finished eating. I now regret shoveling so much food into my mouth. I'm having trouble holding it all down. But I refuse to be sick. Katniss looks just as uncomfortable. I wish I could tell her everything will be all right. I drink a glass of water before Effie leads us to another car to watch the recap of the Reapings in the other districts.

Starting off with district one, we watch the days events. I steal a few sideways glances at Katniss throughout the show. She looks like she is taking in every other tribute, studying them. I turn my full attention to the television. The two tributes from District 2 are both volunteers. No doubt Careers. They've waited for this day their whole lives whereas Katniss and I have dreaded it. The tributes from 3 and 4 are mainly volunteers two. The girl from 4 is stunningly beautiful, but in a dangerous sort of way. There's no one else of much significance except a sneaky looking girl from 5, a giant from 11, and the girl from 11 who looked so young. Her appearance as tribute seemed to be affecting Katniss. Again, I wish I could comfort her.  
Then we see ourselves. Katniss volunteering to take her sister's place, and myself, slowly taking the stage. I looked scared and vulnerable. That's about to change. From now on, I will look like a threat.

Effie begins to go on about how terrible her pink wig looked during our reaping. I know now that the floundering and stumbling I had tuned out after Katniss volunteered was Haymitch falling off the stage and disturbing the pink fluff on Effie's head. Effie huffs and absent mindedly straightens her wig. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

For some reason, I feel compelled to defend Haymitch. After all, his drunken stupor is no doubt his way of coping from the haunting memories of his time in the Games. For some reason I laugh. I cover by saying, "He was drunk. He's drunk every year."

I get a surprised shock when Katniss speaks up as well. "Every day." She is smiling.

"Yes. How odd you two find it amusing," Effie says through pursed lips. "You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death."

As if on cue, Haymitch bursts into the room. "I miss supper?" He sways on the spot and then spews vomit all over his shoes and the floor.

Effie gives a disgusted huff. "So laugh away!" She snaps. She scuttles around Haymitch's vomit and out of the car. Haymitch falls face first into his mess.  
Katniss and I exchange a glance. I step up first and walk towards Haymitch. We should help him, after all, he is our mentor. And the sooner I can get him on my side, the better, for Katniss' sake. Katniss. She's followed me to Haymitch and we both grab one of his arms and haul him up.

"I tripped?" He slurs. "Smells bad."

"Let's get you back to your room. Clean you up a bit," I say. Katniss looks disgusted at the idea. I shrug and we drag Haymitch to his room. We push him into the shower, clothes and all. Katniss looks rather green now. "It's okay," I tell her. "I'll take it from here."

Her face floods with relief. "All right. I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No," I respond. I don't want them around. I want to try and talk to Haymitch alone. "I don't want them." Katniss nods and leaves me with Haymitch.  
"Haymitch," I begin. I don't even know where to begin. He's so drunk he probably won't even understand anything I tell him. "Haymitch, I need your help. You're supposed to be my mentor."

"Oh, the Games," Haymitch mumbles. He opens his mouth, fills it with shower water and spits it down the drain.

I help him take off his filthy clothes. I leave his underwear on, for my own sake. "Yes, the Games. I need you to help me-"

He cuts me off before I can continue. "Don't die. That's bad."

I know there's no use talking to him further. Maybe after a shower and sleep he will be easier to talk to. I scrub him down and help him to his bed. He collapses on it, towel and all and I cover him with a blanket. I shut off his light and leave him to his sleep.

Once back in my room I strip down to my underclothes and wash the Haymitch mess from my hands and face. I crawl into my bed. It is much larger than my one at home. This bed probably wouldn't even fit in my room. It's so soft and warm too. The only time my bed is this warm at home is when my father is up early making bread and the heat from the stoves wafts up into my room. I'm so exhausted I lay my head back on the silk covered pillow and close my eyes. Sleeps come easy but it's not very restful and I see Katniss volunteering over and over again in my nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Here's chapter three! I'm paranoid, so as always, Peeta and everything else from the Hunger Games, direct quotes and all, are the property of Suzanne Collins.**

Chapter 3:

"Katniss!" I'm panting. My heart is racing and a cold sweat runs down my face. It takes me a moment to realize I had been dreaming. I swing my legs out from under the silk sheets and hold my head in my hands. It was just a dream, Peeta. Just a dream. But it was so real. It's hard to get the image of Katniss being repeatedly stabbed out of my head. That monstrous boy from District Two had done it. And he was laughing. Stop it Peeta! It was just a dream. I shake my head and get in the shower. The cold water fully wakes me up and banishes the images from my mind's eye.

After showering, I get dressed in the simplest thing I can find in my closet. Khaki pants and a silk, purple dress shirt. I comb my hair and take in my reflection. Already the stress from the upcoming Games is getting to me. I have dark circles under my eyes. Well, today is the day everything changes. Today, I'll talk to Haymitch. I'll get him to listen to me and go along with my plan. With his help, Katniss will win and she will go back home to 12.

I walk to the dining car before I realize it's still early in the morning. The sun is barely peaking over the horizon. I am surprised when I see Haymitch is awake and sitting at the table. He is drinking something from his flask. No doubt liquor. Here goes nothing. No. Here goes everything.

I sit across from him and bang my hand on the table as I take my seat. He jumps slightly and looks at me with narrowed eyes.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the Good Samaritan," he says. He must remember I hosed him off last night.

"Yeah," I say. "And since you owe me, here's what I want."

He holds up a hand to stop me. "I owe you?" He laughs. "Right."

"I am right!" I'm getting angry. "You are our mentor! You're supposed to help us survive! This is what we're going to do and you WILL help me!"

Haymitch stands and walks to the door. "Listen kid. I've seen bigger, stronger, and more capable kids than yourself go into this thing hoping to win. You got no chance kid. I've seen enough kids die to get my hopes up."

"This isn't about you," I begin. Haymitch takes a swig from his flask. He belches loudly, wipes his mouth, and shakes his head.

"Kid, just accept your fate." He leaves the room.  
I'm furious with Haymitch. I'm furious with myself for not arguing my point more strongly. I get up, deciding to follow him. I'll force him, somehow, to help me keep Katniss alive. I open the door to leave the dining car and nearly knock down one of the Captiol servants.

"Oh, sorry," I say. The servant shakes his head as if it was nothing. He holds a silver tray up so I can see. A glass pitcher filled with a creamy, brown liquid rests in the center with several glass cups ringed around it. "Um, sure," I say. I wonder why the servant won't speak. Maybe they are instructed not to talk to the tributes. Or maybe they can only speak if addressed with a question. "What is it?" I ask.

The servant pours me a glass. The liquid is warm and steam swirls over the edge of the cup. I put the cup to my lips, waiting for a response. The servant just shakes his head again. He sets the tray down at the table and bows himself out of the room.

I sniff the beverage. It smells like the cocoa we put in cake batter to make it taste like chocolate. Chocolate cakes are really expensive and rarely to we get orders to make them. I've never gotten to taste chocolate cake before. I take a sip of the drink. It is sweet and warm and tingles as it goes down my throat. I've never tasted anything so good. I eagerly gulp down the rest of my glass and pour myself another.

I sit at the table sipping my drink, thinking. But it hurts to much to think. If I think about everything that has happened to me the past two days, surely I will break down and cry again. And I refuse to cry anymore. I try to think of Katniss. That day she sang in school, the day I threw her the bread, all those days in school she caught me looking at her. That's too painful. If my plan works, I'll never see her again and that's to painful to think about. So I think of Haymitch. I think of how angry he makes me. I think of all the things I need to say to him to get him to help me keep Katniss alive. I think of taking his alcohol from him. Or maybe using force. I don't know what I'll do. I need to figure out fast. We arrive in the Capitol today.

I get lost in my thoughts for awhile. When the sun has fully risen, Effie enters and sits at the table. "Well good morning!" She says in a sickeningly cheerful voice. "Today is a big, big, big day!"

"Yeah," I say. I don't feel like listening to Effie ramble on about frivolous things. "I'm going back to my room. I forgot something."

I rise and walk out of the car. I hate lying, even to terrible people like Effie. Well, technically I didn't lie to Effie. I did forget to put on my mother's locket this morning. I guess I should start calling it my locket. My mom won't get it back. Well, not necessarily. They'll send me back in a box after I'm murdered in the arena.

I'm back at my room before I know it. I enter and find the locket on the nightstand, where I had left it after cleaning up Haymitch. I slip it over my head and tuck it inside my shirt. I suddenly feel sad. My mother gave me this locket. She must have love for me somewhere in her heart. After all, this locket is real gold. It's the most valuable thing my family has to it's name. And I'll die in the arena and they'll never get it back. If the bakery goes south, they could sell this locket and feed themselves for a good while. I now feel guilty about accepting the locket from my mother.

I lay back on my bed. It's amazing really. This train is moving over 200 miles an hour. I don't feel a thing. It's moving so fast, it's as if we're standing still. Maybe it will be like that in the arena. Once Katniss is safe, she'll take me out quickly. Right in the eye. Just like her squirrels that I've eaten so many times.

My stomach growls. I suppose I should return to the dining car and eat breakfast. I rise from the bed and head back to the dining car. To my great displeasure, Haymitch is sitting across from Effie. They are just beginning to eat. Katniss hasn't arrived yet. Effie looks just as displeased as I do concerning Haymitch's presence. Oh well. Maybe I should try being nice to him. Maybe that will get him to cooperate.

I sit down and fill my plate. "Ah, the Good Samaritan is back!" Haymitch slaps me on the back. I try to laugh. Effie looks at us, her fuchsia eyebrows raised; although you couldn't tell, they've been so plucked and altered she consistently looks like she's surprised. "Have some drink!" Haymitch shoves a glass of the warm, sweet liquid in my hand. I would turn down his offer, but the drink is so good.

Okay, be nice. "So, this is really good. What is it?"

Haymitch laughs. I don't know what I said that was funny.

Effie huffs at him, then turns to me. "It's hot chocolate, Peeta. Haven't you had this before?"

"No," I say. "Chocolate is really expensive in District Twelve. It's a rare treat."

Effie nods excitedly. "Then you're in for some exquisite surprises while we're in the Capitol."

I nod to be polite but don't say anything else. Again, I don't understand Effie's idea of a treat. The door opens and Katniss walks in.

"Sit down! Sit down!" Haymitch calls. He waves to her, knocking into me. Hot chocolate sloshes out of my cup and onto my hand. It burns slightly, but nothing compared to the burns I've gotten in the bakery.

Katniss sits across from me and looks curiously at the hot chocolate. She looks nervous. "They call it hot chocolate," I tell her. "It's good."

She gingerly pours herself a glass. I can't help but smile as I watch the warmth of the hot chocolate spread through her as she drinks. Once Katniss has drained her cup, she begins eating breakfast. I realize I've piled my plate high, but haven't taken a single bit. My stomach growls again so I begin eating.

I'm just finishing my meal and contemplating what to say next to Haymitch when Katniss speaks up from across the table. "So, you're supposed to give us advice," she says.

"Here's some advice. Stay alive." Haymitch responds. Katniss looks livid. She glances at me and I know the same anger is reflected in my eyes. Haymitch starts to laugh. I can't stand him anymore. This is all just a joke to him. He's no better than Effie and the other Capitol people.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I swat the glass of liquor out of his hand. I'm surprised I'm yelling. "That's very funny!" His glass shatters on the floor and his shoes are soaked with the red liquid. "Only not to us!"

The next thing I know, I'm on the floor. My chin is throbbing. He punched me. Haymitch actually punched me. I pull myself back to my chair in time to see Katniss stab the table with a knife, a hair's breadth between Haymitch's hand and his bottle of alcohol. Katniss is looking at him with such anger, I'm surprised he hasn't burst into flames. He quietly sits back in his chair.

"Well, what's this?" He says. He folds his hands across his chest, looking from Katniss, who is still standing, and myself, a large bruise forming on my jaw. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" He continues.

Katniss sits back down and I straighten myself in my chair. I reach for some ice to prevent my chin from swelling. Haymitch slaps the ice from my hand, although not violently. "No. Let the bruise show," he tells me. "The audience will think you've mixed it up with another tribute before you've even made it to the arena."

My eyes widen. "That's against the rules." I have no wish to be on the Capitol's bad side in addition to being a participant in the Games.

"Only if they catch you," Haymitch tells me. "That bruise will say you fought, you weren't caught, even better." Well, I think, I hadn't thought of it that way. Haymitch turns to Katniss and continues, "Can you hit anything with a knife besides a table?"

Katniss responds by grabbing the knife, wrenching it from the table, and throwing it into the wall. It becomes lodged in the seam of two wooden panels. I suppress a smile. I knew Katniss could hunt with a bow and arrow. I didn't know she could throw knives too. Maybe she won't need my help after all. But she will. There will be 22 other tributes trying to kill her. I intend to stop them. I'll throw myself in front of her if I have to.

Haymitch looks at the knife lodged in the wall and looks pleased. Effie looks distraught. Obviously this is not proper behavior. Breaking glasses, throwing knives, and fighting. Oh well.

"Stand over here. Both of you." Haymitch says. He points to the wall. Katniss and I rise from our chairs and stand as he circles us. He pokes and pinches us. Examines our muscles and peers deep into our faces. "Well, you're not entirely hopeless. Seem fit. And once the stylists get hold of you, you'll be attractive enough."

I suppress a laugh. Me, attractive? That'll take some work. I mean, I've never thought of myself as ugly. But I'm not like some of the boys in 12. Like Katniss' friend Gale. The girls talk about him. I don't think they talk about me. And what does he mean enough? Katniss is beautiful. Her hair, her eyes. I realize I'm staring at her and jerk my attention back to Haymitch before anyone notices.

Haymitch takes a step back, his hand on his chin in thought. "All right," he begins again. "I'll make a deal with you. You don't interfere with my drinking," he shoots me a dirty look, "And I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you have to do exactly what I say."

That seems like a pretty unfair deal on the parts of Katniss and I. But, Haymitch has finally agreed to help us. And I'll take whatever help I can get in order to keep Katniss alive. "Fine," I say.

Katniss steps towards Haymitch, as if to make sure he's listening to her. "So help us. When we get to the arena, what's the best strategy at the Cornucopia for someone –"

Haymitch holds up a hand to stop her. "One thing at a time," he says. He glances at the clock across the room. "In a few minutes, we'll be pulling into the station. You'll be put in the hands of your stylists. You're not going to like what they do to you. But no matter what it is, don't resist."

Katniss begins to object and I'll admit I have fears of my own. I've seen what they do to tributes in the past Games. Dress them up, alter their bodies, cover them in makeup. I have no desire to be someone's dress up doll. But I've agreed to Haymitch's "deal," so I keep my mouth shut.

"No buts," Haymitch says to Katniss. "Don't resist." And with that, he's done. He grabs his alcohol and leaves the car. It's now that I realize that Effie has left too. Our behavior probably distressed her so much, she fled to her room to recuperate.

Suddenly, everything goes dark. I panic for a moment before realizing we must be passing through a tunnel. I can't see her, but I feel Katniss tense up next to me. I think she's holding her breath. I wish I could put my arms around her. I want to tell her it's okay. I open my mouth but I can't make the words come out. Just like I couldn't look at her that day in the rain with the bread.

We are out of the tunnel and bathed in bright light. We are in the Capitol. Katniss and I run to the window. It is amazing. The buildings are tall and gleaming. The place is spotless and so clean I don't think they'd allow anyone from 12 in here if it weren't for the Games. All along the track, Capitol inhabitants are crammed together, cheering and waving. As sick as this makes me, I smile and wake back.

We pull into the station. I turn away from the window. Katniss is staring at me. I shrug. I realize how odd that must have looked. Waving to the people who will be cheering for my death. "Who knows," I say, my voice finally back. "One of them may be rich." She looks at me and I can't figure out her expression. Is she sizing me up, questioning my behavior? Does she think I'm doing all this so I can more easily kill her? I wish I could tell her why I'm doing all this. But I can't. Not yet anyway.

Effie is back in the car. "It's time," she says. Her painted lips are spread wide in a smile.

Well, here we go.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: This one is a little shorter than the past two chapters, but I've decided to try and follow along with the book for the most part. I want to tell the same story, but what Peeta was thinking throughout the Games. Suzanne Collins owns all characters and direct quotes, all though, since Peeta's make over team aren't really mentioned, I made them up. Hope you like! Please review!**

Chapter 4:

We are ushered from the train and swept into the Remake Center to meet our stylists and their teams. Katniss is taken away by two women and a man who all look like something out of a circus. I am swept up by three women, who I assume to be triplets. They all look exactly alike, expect one has pink skin, hair, and makeup, one has purple, and the other has blue. The pink one is Diamante, the purple one is Raven, and the blue one is Misty. They talk in quick high pitched voices, of course, with thick Capitol accents. They giggle a lot, I really don't know why. They poke and prod me. They say my hair is glorious, if only I didn't have split ends. They also love my eyes. But my eyebrows. They called them caveman like. It really hurt, all the plucking and waxing they did to get my eyebrows in a more "manageable" state. They put some kind of stinking, cold gel on the various cuts and burns on my arms. And like magic, my scars from the bakery are gone. My nails are clipped and filed, polished and painted with some clear liquid.

They poke at the bruise on my chin from Haymitch. "We can clean that right up!" They say as one.

I remember Haymitch. "Let the bruise show," he had said.

"No," I say. "Haymitch said to leave the bruise alone."

The three exchange a glance. The pink one shrugs. Diamante. I think she's the leader. She sets me on the bench. I am naked. It doesn't really bother me, but the metal bench is cold. I shiver.

"Don't be scared," Misty said.

I wanted to say I wasn't but Raven spoke up, "I think you're ready for Portia."

The three leave the room. Portia must be the stylist. I'm glad they left my face alone for the most part. My bruise is still on my chin, and so is the mark under my eye from when my mother hit me. I never thought that seeing that mark would comfort me.

Portia steps in the room. I must admit, she is very pretty. She doesn't seem to be as lavishly dressed and made up like most Capitol people. She is wearing a simple black dress, though it has a long, obnoxious train of lace and ruffles. Her hair is fluffed up in large black curls. Her eyes are rimmed by thick circles of gold makeup, but it brings out the golden flecks in her brown eyes. She has smooth dark skin that has not been altered by dyes and tattoos like most people in the Capitol.

"Peeta," she says. Her voice is soft and clear. The Capitol accent is there, but it is no where near as annoying as when it comes out of Effie's mouth. "I will be your stylist, Portia."

"Nice to meet you," I say politely.

Portia circles me. Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable that I am naked. The other three didn't seem as human as Portia. I feel exposed. I shiver.

"Now dear," Portia says. She places a hand on my arm. It is cold but gentle and I feel comforted. "You have lots of potential. You are quite handsome as you are."

I can't help but smile and I feel my cheeks reddening.

"I think minimal make up will be best." She opens a drawer on the table next to my bench. She plucks a jar of something out and begins lighting brushing some kind of powder on my face. "Yes," she says. "This will make your skin look even and give it a healthy glow." Great, I'm going to be glowing. She takes a gray pencil and lightly rings my eyes. "This will bring out their natural color," she says. "You have marvelous blue eyes." Next she rubs some gel between her palms and begins working on my hair. Her hands feel good, running across my scalp. She isn't rough like the three clowns were.

When she's finished, she holds a mirror up so I can survey myself. I am grateful that I can still recognize the baker's son. She was right about minimal makeup. The eyeliner actually looks pretty good. And my wavy hair is slicked back much like it was the day of the reaping. District Twelve will watch the opening ceremony and recognize me. I'm comforted in this thought.

"What will I wear?" I ask. In the past, the tributes from 12 were often made to look like miners, or coal. I shudder as I recall the year the tributes were simply covered in black dust.

"My counterpart and I feel that the coal miner bit is overplayed and forgettable," she says. Her counterpart must be Katniss' stylist. "We think it is best to focus on the coal itself. Peeta, what do you do with coal?"

"Burn it," I say. Then with a laugh, "Are you going to light me on fire."

Portia smiles. She is going to light me on fire.

An hour or so later, I am dressed in a black unitard. Heavy black boots are laced up to my mid calf, but they actually look good. A cape of red and orange material drapes my shoulders. It is the cape that will be lit on fire. Portia told me about the fake fire she and Cinna, Katniss' stylist, developed over the past few months. I can't help but feel a bit nervous about being lit on fire. Sure, they say it's fake, but I've been burned enough times in the bakery to have developed a strong dislike for swirling orange flames.

Katniss joins me. She is dressed exactly the same, only her costume has a matching headdress. I am relieved that Cinna has decided minimal makeup would be the best decision for Katniss as well. Her hair is in her usual braid. She is recognizable, and beautiful. My breath catches in my throat and I have to cough to get myself under control.

We are ushered to the bottom floor of the remake center where chariots await. We are loaded into ours and put into position by Portia and Cinna. I take a quick look around. All the other tributes are in extravagant outfits that are glittering, sparkling, or shining. No one takes a second look at the tributes from 12. I'm suddenly hoping this fire thing will work.

"What do you think? About the fire?" Katniss whispers to me.

I laugh. "I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine."

Katniss looks relieved. "Deal," she says. "I know we promised Haymitch we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle."

Haymitch. I realize I haven't seen him since he left us on the train. "Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?"

"With all the alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame."

At this, we are both laughing. It doesn't make sense, really. Nothing about our situation is funny. I guess we're both just scared out of our minds that laughing is a reasonable response to our predicament.

Our laughter is cut off by the sound of the anthem playing. The doors of the Remake Center open and the District One tributes are paraded into the Capitol to cheers and applause. Portia and Cinna are no where to be seen. Maybe we won't be lit of fire after all.

As the District Eleven tributes begin their departure, our stylists return, flaming torches in hand. Cinna climbs into our chariot and ignites our costumes. It's pretty comfortable actually. The flames are warm, but they're not real fire. They tickle the back of my neck as they swirl around my cape.

"It works," I hear Cinna say. He turns to Katniss and reminds her of her posture. Then, he jumps from the chariot. The horses begin pulling us. At the last second, Cinna shouts to us. I can't hear him.

"What's he saying?" Katniss asks. She turns to me. My heart skips a beat. She is stunning. The flames swirling around her head give her skin a remarkable glow. She is breathtakingly beautiful. I swallow hard and look at Cinna. We and Portia join hands and wave them in the air.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," I say. I'm sure this is what Cinna and Portia meant, but frankly, if it wasn't, I don't care. I am so overwhelmed by Katniss' appearance that if she doesn't hold my hand, I may fall off this chariot. Before she can object, I grab her hand in mine. It is shaking slightly, but it is strong and warm. I feel a thousand times better, holding her hand. I smile as the chariot pulls us into the Capitol. At first, there is a moment of hushed surprise. No one has ever left the Remake Center on fire. Then thunderous applause breaks outs. I hear cheers of "Twelve!" and "Katniss!" There are a few people calling my name, but Katniss has most of the attention. _Good_, I think._ If she can make the people love her, surely she will get sponsors. Surely she will survive._

I wave to the crowd and smile. The Capitol people love it. I glance over at Katniss. She is blowing kisses to the crowd. I suddenly wish I was one of them, catching her affections. Someone throws her a rose. It adds to her beautiful image. She waves to the crowd and grips my hand even tighter.

My fingers have gone numb, but I don't mind. I turn away from her and continue waving to out potential sponsors. She begins to draw her hand away. I tighten my grip. "No," I say. "Don't let go of me." I realize how desperate I sound. Hastily I add, "Please. I might fall out of this thing."

"Okay," Katniss says. She looks a little uneasy. She must be thinking about how odd this is. Two people who are about to kill each other, linking hands, acting as one. _I won't kill you, Katniss._ I am grateful for Portia and Cinna's decision on our entrance. We are memorable. The crowd loves us. And holding hands, this plays right along into the plans I have. I still need to get Haymitch on board with my ideas.

We have entered the City Circle. President Snow gives the welcome. I am vaguely aware that Katniss and I are getting a great deal of screen time. I feel the cold stares of the other tributes. This entrance was both a blessing and a curse. It will get the people to love Katniss but it will also make the other tributes hate her even more. My heart beats faster. This whole situation is getting more and more complicated. Now, more than anything, all I want is to protect her. Keep her safe.

The jerk of the chariot brings me back to the events at hand. We are being taken into the Training Center. The chariot pulls to a stop and Portia and Cinna are there. They take our capes, and Katniss' headdress, and extinguish the faux flames. I am still holding onto Katniss. She doesn't seem to mind. We look at each other and disentangle our fingers. I feel as if I should say something. "Thanks for keeping hold of me," I say. "I was getting a little shaky there."

Katniss smiles. "It didn't show," she tells me. "I'm sure no one noticed."

I have to laugh. No one was looking at me anyway. All eyes were on Katniss, the girl on fire. "I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you." I am being truthful. Even I was transfixed by her for most of the ceremony. "You should wear flames more often." And then, before I can stop myself, "They suit you." I smile, nervous and scared, but happy too. She causes so many emotions to stir inside me. I look at her, hoping she realizes my words are the truth and not some ruse for the Games. She looks at me curiously and then, quite unexpectedly, she steps towards me. She's on her tiptoes and she kisses me. Right on the bruise Haymitch left. My skin is warm under her lips and it is tingling. My stomach feels like it's turned itself inside out. I feel myself blushing and pray she doesn't notice.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: I do not own Hunger Games! =]**

****Chapter Five:

After the excitement of the opening ceremony dies down, Effie deposits me at my room in the Training Center. I can't believe how nice it is. They have so much here in the Capitol and back in 12, we have nothing. The carpet is thick and soft, like it was on the train. My bed is large enough to fit my whole family. It is soft and feels like it is made of feathers. The sheets are silk and are cool to the touch. Not even the mayor has silk sheets. Well, I assume he doesn't. I really don't know much about the mayor's bedclothes. I know the mayor isn't as rich as the people in the Capitol, despite his high standing. His daughter is Katniss' only other friend. I think. They sit together at lunch. I know this from all the times I tried to sit next to her. To talk to her. To offer her bread. But I always chickened out.

I continue investigating my room. The windows are large and have numerous buttons near the sills. I try a few out. I am able to zoom up on different parts of the city. I can zoom so close, I can see a Capitol citizen picking his pierced nose. I decide to abandon the window after that. I go to the bathroom, strip myself of my costume, and enter the shower.

I stand for a moment, not knowing what to do. At home, we have a simple faucet. On the train there was a tap for cold water and a tap for warm. Here, there are at least a hundred buttons. I press one. Water rains down on my head. It is warm and smells like pine needles. I press another button. I smile as the smell of baking bread fills my nostrils. I'm not sure why someone would bathe themselves in the scent of baking bread, but right now that's the only scent I want to smell. I rinse the makeup from my face and scrub the gel from my hair. I try another button. Pink, foamy soap swirls around me. I clean myself and step from the shower. Jets on the floor douse me in warm air. Soon I am dry.

Back in my room, there is a large closet with revolving racks of clothes. I pick a silk, tunic-like shirt and black pants. I finish the outfit off with a light, leather jacket. For some reason, despite the warm shower, I am cold. By the time I am dressed, Effie is knocking on my door for dinner. I now notice how hungry I am. It feels like I haven't eaten in ages.

I follow Effie to the dining room at the end of the hall. There is a balcony attached and I am pleased to see Portia and Cinna are present. I was sick of having to converse with Effie and Haymitch during meals. Maybe tonight's feast will be intellectually stimulating. I join the two stylists on the balcony. Cool air blows against my face and through my still damp hair.

"My stars, Peeta," Portia says. "It's as if you don't even need me! If you were raised in the Capitol, surely you would be a stylist for the Games."

I'm not really sure if I should take Portia's statement as a compliment. I guess she's saying I have fashion sense… but I would detest myself if I was like the people from the Capitol. Although, Portia doesn't seem too bad. Neither does Cinna. And I guess being raised in the Capitol, they have no other idea of what life is like. To them, the Games are simply a game. To those of us in the districts, to those of us in 12, the Games are a terrible show of the Capitol's dominance.

I simply nod at her and rest my elbows on the railing of the balcony. Cinna chuckles. His laugh is deep and rich. It reminds me of my father's. Not that my father laughed much. I remember a specific time when I was little. He was just teaching me how to ice cakes. The piping bag was filled to the brim with creamy vanilla frosting. I began to squeeze, the tip just above the top of a cake. I didn't really know what I was doing. The frosting shot out of the tip of the bag and spilled over the top. My hands were covered in the sticky, sweet substance. My father had laughed, long and hard. I was worried he would be mad at the mess, but once he laughed, I laughed. I was allowed to lick my hands clean. That day was a treat.

"She means that as a compliment," Cinna says to me. It's like he can read my mind. He puts a hand on my shoulder. "Have you been to the roof yet?"

The roof? "No."

"Come, I'll show you." Cinna steers me from the balcony and down the hall to a small flight of stairs. We ascend them quickly and step out onto the roof of the Training Center. There are various benches, plants, and water fountains scattered about. There is a railing, but it is low. I could easily climb over it and hurl myself off the building. The Capitol is spread out before us, twinkling in the dusk, like the night sky.

Cinna takes me to a bench. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

I nod. "But, aren't they worried tributes will…" I trail off. I think of how desperate some tributes must feel before the Games. Throwing themselves off the roof and taking their own lives must seem like the better choice.

Cinna looks at me thoughtfully. "There's a force-field," he says. He plucks a stone from the ground and tosses it towards the edge of the roof. A blue spark appears and the stone collides with an invisible barrier. It is then thrown back and lands gently near Cinna's feet.

Cinna points to the other edge of the roof. I avert my eyes from the stone and follow his finger. "And over there is the garden." The place he is indicating is a large cluster of plants. There are brightly colored flowers and trees with thick, twisting trunks. I hear a soft tinkling from the garden. "There are many wind chimes hanging from the trees," Cinna continues. "The sound is quite lovely. Especially with the lovely backdrop of dusk and dawn."

"My favorite time of day is dusk," I say. It's so easy to talk to Cinna. "The warm, orange color of the setting sun is my favorite color. I've decorated many cakes with orange icing."

Cinna smiles at me. "Then you must have loved Katniss in her costume."

"Yes," I say. Then I catch myself. I feel my cheeks reddening. My eyes must be as big as dinner plates. "Um, what I mean is…" I really have no cover here.

Cinna laughs. "It's okay, Peeta. I saw the way you looked at her. I know."

The fact that Cinna knows lifts a weight off my shoulders. I'm glad he can read me so well. Still, I don't know what else to say. Should I ask Cinna for help protecting Katniss? I don't get the chance to answer this question. Cinna stands. "We should probably get back." I nod again and follow him back to the dining room. We rejoin Portia on the balcony.

By now, Effie has returned to the dining room with Katniss in tow. Even without the makeup, costume, and flames, she is gorgeous. I smile at her. We take our seats. I wonder where Haymitch is. He should be here. This isn't only dinner, it's time we could be strategizing, forming plans, figuring out how to stay alive… or how to keep someone else alive. Often alliances form at the beginning of the Games. The Careers almost always team up at the beginning and take out the weaker tributes first. Hopefully Katniss will be willing to team up with me.

Just as the Capitol servants are placing food on the table, Haymitch appears. His stride seems more stable. I guess he's keeping his promise of staying sober. He sits next to me. The smell of alcohol that normally emanates from him is greatly reduced. I am glad.

We begin eating. Katniss and I remain silent for the most part, listening to our stylists, our mentor, and our escort discussing the next important step; our interview costumes. Dessert arrives and suddenly the tone of the meal changes. Katniss looks at the server and says, "Oh! I know you!" By the stunned silence, I know Katniss has something very wrong. My stomach twists nervously. The server looks stunned and scared. Katniss looks confused.

Effie breaks the silence. "Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox? The very thought."

_What the hell is an Avox?_ I think. I look from Effie to Portia hoping someone will explain. Katniss asks, "What's an Avox?" She sounds just as perplexed as I feel.

Haymitch and Effie explain for us. Avoxes are traitors or other such criminals who have their tongues cut from their mouths so they cannot speak. They are then forced to work for the Capitol for the rest of their lives. We're not to speak to them unless to give an order. That explains why the attendant on the train didn't answer me when I asked him about the hot chocolate.

Katniss looks uncomfortable. She seems convinced she really does know this Avox girl. "Of course you don't really know her," Effie snaps.

"No, I guess not, I just –" Katniss falters. She is flustered and can't think of a convincing lie. Time to help her out. I snap my fingers as if a thought just struck me.

"Delly Cartwright," I say. "That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly." This is all a complete and total lie, and Katniss knows it. This Avox girl looks nothing like my friend Delly. Delly was the only name that came to mind. Hopefully Katniss will play along. She looks at me nervously .

"Of course," she says, relieved. "That's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair." Katniss flashes me a grateful smile.

I smile back and continue with our ruse. "Something about the eyes, too."

The tension that had filled the room, like a thick fog, has lifted. We finish the meal without further incident and then it is time to watch the recap of the opening ceremony. We leave the table and sit on large, velvet couches that surround a large television. The couches are soft and very comfortable. I could easily curl up here and fall asleep.

The recap beings. Even though we've seen it and Katniss and I lived it, we all gush over our appearance. Seeing it again solidifies the effect we had on the people. Katniss is so beautiful. Surely men across the Capitol will be jumping at the chance to sponsor her. This thought both reassures me that she will survive and fills me with a sense of jealousy. I watch her blow kisses to the crowd. Haymitch and Portia discuss the hand holding. How it was rebellious. I don't understand what hand holding has to do with rebellion. And why would we want to rebel? Don't we want the Capitol to like us? I suddenly feel like I'm part of some bigger plot between Cinna and Portia. I don't know what to make of this. I glance at Katniss. She looks as equally confused, her brows furrowed in thought.

Haymitch gets our attention once the recap ends. "Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it." I suppress a laugh at the thought of Haymitch being up in time fore breakfast. He dismisses Katniss and I.

We leave the dining room and enter the hall. I know we are being watched and invisible ears hear our every word. But still, I want to know how Katniss recognized that Avox. I simply state, "So, Delly Cartwright. Imagine finding her lookalike here." She looks at me nervously and then bites her lip and looks down the hall. "Have you been on the roof yet?" I know she hasn't so the shake of her head is no surprise. "Cinna showed me. You can practically see the whole city. The wind's a bit loud, though." I hope she gets my hint.

"Can we just go up?" She asks.

"Sure, come on." I lead her to the staircase Cinna showed me. She follows me up to the roof. She walks so quietly. If I couldn't hear her breathing behind me, I wouldn't know she was there. This is one of the reasons she's such a good hunter. And one of the reasons she will be a threat to the other tributes in the arena. And to me.

We emerge on the roof. Katniss looks in awe at the sight and I have to say, now that the sun has fully set, the scenery once again takes my breath away. Katniss takes her eyes off the sky and looks apprehensively at the edge of the building.

"I asked Cinna why they let us up here," I tell her. "Weren't they worried that some of the tributes might decide to jump right over the side?"

"What'd he say?"

"You can't." I walk to the edge of the roof, where I know the force-field is. I reach my hand into apparently empty space, bracing myself for the shock. I am zapped and a tingling rushes up my arm. I withdraw my hand quickly. "Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof."

"Always worried about our safety," Katniss jokes. Somehow, her ability to make light of this situation soothes me. I laugh. "Do you think they're watching us now?" She asks.

"Maybe." If they can see us, surely they can hear us, too. I think of the garden. The tinkling of the wind chimes will mask our conversation. "Come see the garden." I lead her to the garden. We sit amongst the flowers. She examines a tulip. I look at her, waiting for an explanation of the Avox situation.

Quietly, she begins. "We were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game."

"You and your father?" I whisper.

"No, my friend Gale." I feel a stab of jealousy but push it away. I want to know the rest of the story. She tells me the story of how the birds had stopped singing and gave a warning call. Then the girl appeared. A boy was with her. They were running for their lives, their clothes hanging off them in tatters. Then she tells me how the hovercraft appeared. It captured the girl in a net and shot the boy through the stomach with a spear. Both were hauled into it's belly.

"Did they see you?" I ask. The story has me worried for Katniss' safety. What if the hovercraft operators had seen her? They are surely present somewhere in this city. What if they storm into the Training Center and arrest her? Or that Avox girl could turn her in. How she would do this without being able to speak, I don't know. Then I realize the nonsense of my thoughts. I am worried about Katniss being arrested when she is about to be thrown into the arena and fight for her life.

She answers that no one saw her. But I'm not convinced. She is clearly upset. She shivers. "You're shivering," I say. I know she is not shivering from the cold but I take my jacket off and gently drape it around her shoulders. She accepts it, but rather reluctantly. I button the jacket under her chin. "They were from here?" She nods. "Where do you suppose they were going?"

"I don't know that," Katniss says. "Or why they would leave here."

I am suddenly angry. "I'd leave here." I've said this a bit loudly. My stomach knots uncomfortably and I glance around, waiting for Peacekeepers to arrest me for slanderous statements against the Capitol. None are obviously present. I cover myself by laughing. "I'd go home now if they let me. But you have to admit, the food's prime." I know I hate laying but I am grateful I can do it so well. I don't want to be out here much longer. I feel uncomfortable, still nervous about my outburst. "It's getting chilly. We better go in."

Once inside, I finally make up my mind. I'm finally going to ask Katniss the question that has gnawed at me for years. Sure, I've caught her glancing at me at school. Sure, she kissed me after the ceremony. But she spends countless hours with Gale in the forest. Surely they have some sort of relationship. "Your friend Gale," I say casually. "He's the one that took your sister away at the Reaping?"

"Yes. Do you know him?" I can tell she is generally curious.

"Not really," I say truthfully. "I hear the girls talk about him a lot. I thought he was your cousin or something. You favor each other?" It takes all my will power to keep my voice even.

"No, we're not related." That's all Katniss says. She has sneakily avoided my last question.

I try another approach. "Did he come to say good bye to you?"

"Yes. So did your father. He brought me cookies."

This surprises me. He must have gone to her after saying good bye to me. I nervously wonder if he gave away my secret. "Really?" I say. Again, it takes everything I have to keep my voice steady. "Well, he likes you and your sister. I think he wishes he had a daughter instead of a house full of boys." I've thought this very statement many times over the years. Sure, my father and I are close… well as close as you can get with my family. But Hutch and Riley. My father never seemed close to them.

I decide to continue. "He knew your mother when they were kids." I recall all the stories my father told me about Katniss' mother. I knew, even from a young age, my father didn't love my mother in the same way he loved Katniss' mom.

"Oh, yes," Katniss says. She is good at concealing her emotions but I can tell she is surprised by this. "She grew up in town."

I know her mother is not from the Seam. She was one of the more well off citizens of District Twelve. The apothecary where her parents worked used to be only a few shops down from our bakery. I think she may have fancied my father when they were kids, but once she met Katniss' father, there was no turning back. My father always had such sadness when he would tell me about the day Katniss' father sang. The day the mockingjays fell silent. The day the healer's daughter fell in love with a coal miner.

We have passed my room, but I continue to walk Katniss to hers. She stops at her door and looks at me. Although I want her to keep it, she hands my jacket back to me. "See you in the morning then," she says.

I take my jacket. It is warm from her body. "See you," I reply. She enters her room. I turn and walk back down to mine. When I hear her door close, I lift the jacket to my face. It smells like her. Despite all her primping and all the makeup, my jacket still smells like her, like the woods. I smile. I wish I could bring this jacket with me into the arena.

I open my door. I toss the jacket on my bed, not wanting anyone to take it and wash it. I open the closet and press a few buttons. A pair of flannel pajama pants swivel in front of me. I find a simple white t-shirt in one of the dressers. I change and climb into bed.

Katniss' story of the Avox girl runs through my mind. It frightens me and makes me nervous. So, instead, I think of the day she sang the Valley Song in school. When she sang, the birds fell silent outside the window. Just like when her mother fell in love with her father, I fell in love with her. Yeah, I was five. I didn't really know what love was then. But as I got older and other girls crossed my mind, I always went back to her song. Her voice. Her braids. Her red, plaid dress. It was her I loved, just as my father loved her mom. I replay the Valley Song in my head, hearing it flow from Katniss' lips.

I've wanted to be with her for so long. She has had me entranced ever since the day she sang. I'll never forget that day. I feel so stupid. All those times in school, I could have talked to her. All the times I caught her looking at me. Especially after the day I gave her the bread. She had looked at me so intensely, with her smoky, gray eyes. It was like she could see right into me. Into my soul. She looked like she wanted to say something so badly. Then she plucked that dandelion from the ground. After that, the sight of dandelions always reminded me of Katniss.

If I'm honest with myself, most things dealing with nature remind me of Katniss. The squirrels chittering in the trees remind me of all the meals I've had, thanks to her skill with a bow. I always loved decorating the cakes during the fall. The piping tip that produced leaf-like shapes was my favorite. And my favorite color. It's not just my favorite because of the setting sun. There was one day. We were twelve. It was the middle of autumn. The sun was setting early. My mother had hit me, so I was walking in the Meadow, just thinking. I was just about to go back home. And then I saw her. She slipped under the fence and back into the district. Her game bag was slung over her shoulder. She was dirty, but oh so beautiful. The setting sun was behind her, making her glow. She didn't see me that day. I was glad for that. I'm sure I was gaping at her like an idiot.

Then of course, the mockingjays. I know they remind my father of her mother, although not in the same warm feeling that I get when they sing. My breath catches in my throat and I am crying and gasping.

All those times I could have talked to her. Told her how I felt. Protected her. Helped her. And I didn't. All those times, wasted. There can only be one winner. It will be her. I refuse to accept the fact that she will not survive the Games. If I have to kill every other tribute to ensure her victory I will. But, it will hurt so much. I had always hoped, somehow, someway, despite her relationship with Gale, she would fall in love with me. We would live together and be happy. Now that will never happen.

I hate this city. I hate these people. I hate these Games. I am crying harder now. They can probably hear me. I grab my jacket, still infused with Katniss' scent, and bury my face in it. I don't know how long I cry but when I finally fall asleep, the sun is already starting to rise.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I plan on writing all 3 books from Peeta's POV if I have the time. Also, I changed the ending to chapter 5, I had an awesome idea right after I posted it, so check that out. Hope you like chapter 6! I own nothing! =]**

Chapter Six:

I wake up after only a few hours of restless sleep. I still feel miserable. I climb out of bed and go into the bathroom. My reflection peers back at me with red, puffy eyes. I wonder if I've been crying in my sleep. I don't recall any dreams, though. For that, I am grateful. The nightmares were beginning to take a toll.

I take several, deep, calming breaths and try to shake the sorrow that has crouched on my shoulders since last night. I decide a nice warm shower will help. I don't remember what button produced the bread smell, so I try another at random. White foam engulfs me. I tingles and smells like cherries. The foam is warm on my skin and soothes me. I finish bathing myself and step out of the shower. I allow the floor mat to dry me off. I comb my hair back out of my eyes and let it rest in it's usual, disheveled way.

I don't have to bother selecting an outfit from the automated closet. One has been set out for me. I wonder when this happened. Was someone in my room while I was asleep? In the shower? Probably. Maybe. Most likely an Avox.

The outfit isn't too bad. The black pants are a little tight for my liking, but not uncomfortable. The shirt is long-sleeved and tunic-like, similar to the shirt I wore last night at dinner. It is deep red and I can't help thinking how much it looks like blood. The shoes are comfortable, though. They are light but durable. Good for running. I hope I get to wear these in the arena.

As I walk down the hall to the dining room, Haymitch joins me. I'm pleased to see he seems to be keeping up the sober thing. I wish he'd stick to it for good. He's so much more pleasant to be around. Not that I'll be around him much longer. He smiles at me.

"Well bread boy. Don't we look spiffy?" Haymitch laughs. Did I really just call him pleasant?

I smile back. "And don't we look sober." The smile fades from his face and he shuts right up. This isn't the way I should be treating Haymitch. Not if I want his help keeping Katniss alive. I take a breath. Here I go…

"Hey, Haymitch," I say. I stop walking. He turns to me, a curious look on his face. I don't say anything else. I'm not really sure how to begin this conversation.

"Let's go to the roof. Breakfast can wait a few more minutes." Haymitch walks over to the staircase at the end of the hall. I follow, surprised he caught on so quickly.

We reach the roof and immediately, Haymitch walks over to the garden and sits on a bench, the wind chimes playing their beautiful music. I sit next to Haymitch.

"I know you have something you want to tell me, bread boy, so spit it out."

I take another breath to get my thoughts straight. "I'm not trying to win," I say. "I would rather Katniss go home to Twelve, not me."

At that moment, the door to the roof opens. Haymitch holds up a hand to silence me, but I'm not an idiot. I hold my tongue. It is an Avox. She has come up with a large watering can to tend to the plants. Haymitch rises from the bench.

"Let's not keep Katniss waiting. Besides, you don't want to be late on your first day." He puts a hand on my shoulder and steers me back inside the Training Center. Well, at least I broke the ice. At least he knows to put all his energies into helping Katniss. Maybe I will get a chance to talk to him later.

We enter the dining room and I see Katniss is already there. She is dipping bits of her roll into what looks like hot chocolate. This is how I ate my rolls on the train. I can't help but smile. She has been watching me just as much as I've been watching her.

Then I noticed her outfit. It's the exact same as mine. Although, her pants seem to be significantly tighter. I try not to think about how they bring out the curves of her body. I grab a plate and walk over to the tables laden with food. It is good we are dressed alike. We matched at the ceremony. This whole matching thing, the two acting as one, it fits right into my plans. It seems odd though, the matching. In all the Games I have witnessed, never have they made such a show of tributes from the same district matching. Again, I can't help but feel Katniss and I are pawns in some bigger scheme. I pile my plate and sit next to Katniss. I mentally shake myself. There's no reason we'd be involved in some plot conducted by Haymitch and the stylists. Haymitch is just a drunk victor and the stylists are puppets of the Capitol, forced into these Games, just like Katniss and I.

Haymitch sits across from us and the three of us begin eating. After I've engorged myself with three plates of bacon and eggs, I grab a roll and some hot chocolate and begin eating my sweet dessert. Katniss has stopped eating but Haymitch is still shoveling food in his mouth. It's as if he's compensating for his lack of alcohol by stuffing himself.

Finally, when he has finished, he addresses us. "So, let's get down to business. Training. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

Katniss jumps on his words. "Why would you coach us separately?"

"Say, if you had a secret skill you might not want the other to know about," Haymitch replies.

Katniss looks at me expectantly. "I don't have any secret skills," I say. This is the truth. I'm not much of an athletic person. I'm only good at wrestling because hauling flour bags and bread carts around since I was eight years old has made me strong. And I wouldn't call wrestling a secret skill. There's hardly ever physical combat in the arena. The audience likes violent weapons and blood. Lots of blood.

I look back at Katniss. "And I already know what yours is, right? I mean, I've eaten enough of your squirrels." At this, she looks surprised. I wonder why. It's no secret she trades her squirrels for my father's bread. I try not to smile. Not only my father's bread. Several of the times my father traded, it was my bread he had given Katniss. It was my bread she ate at the table with her family. I would watch from my bedroom window. She would knock at the back door. My father would open it and she would take a squirrel or two from her bag, depending on her success of that day's hunt, and my father would give her warm bread.

Katniss surveys me for another few seconds. She doesn't look away from me when she tells Haymitch, "You can coach us together." I nod my agreement, not taking my eyes off Katniss.

"All right," Haymitch says, "So give my some idea of what you can do."

I finally turn back to him. "I can't do anything. Unless you count baking bread."

"Sorry, I don't." He looks at me. Is that disappointment in his eyes? I don't get a chance to figure out. He turns to Katniss. "Katniss," he says, "I already know you're handy with a knife.

Katniss shrugs. "Not really. But I can hunt. With a bow and arrow."

"And you're good?" Haymitch asks.

Katniss pauses before she answers. She excellent. Every squirrel my father has received from her has been shot straight through the eye. Why is she hesitating? Finally, she says, "I'm all right."

All right? She's far from all right. "She's excellent," I tell Haymitch. "My father buys her squirrels. He always comments on how the arrows never pierce the body. She hits every one in the eye." I remember it's not only my father that buys her meat. Almost everyone in Twelve has, at one point, eaten something Katniss has killed. "It's the same with the rabbits she sells the butcher. She can even bring down deer." I don't understand why Katniss is selling herself short.

Katniss looks at me. Confusion is written all over her face. "What are you doing?" She asks.

"What are _you_ doing?" I shoot back. "If he's going to help you, he has to know what you're capable of. Don't underrate yourself."

Katniss' cheeks redden and I can tell she is starting to get angry with me. "What about you?" She snaps. "I've seen you in the market. You can lift hundred-pound bags of flour. Tell him that. That's not nothing."

This catches me by surprise. It appears Katniss hasn't just been observing me on the train. "Yes," I say, "And I'm sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people. It's not like being able to use a weapon. You know it isn't."

Frustrated with me, Katniss turns to Haymitch. "He can wrestle."

I can't hide my surprise. She knows I can wrestle too? How long has she been watching me? As long as I've been watching her? She's sneaked looks at me ever since that day with the bread, but did this start before then? Why is she even bothering to bring this up to Haymitch? Why is she trying to make me into something I'm not? I'm not going into these games trying to win. I don't want her to play up what little strengths I have.

"What use is that?" I snap, half at Haymitch, half at Katniss. "How many times have you seen someone wrestle someone to death?"

Katniss is almost yelling at me now. "There's always hand-to-hand combat. All you need to do is come up with a knife, and you'll at least stand a chance. If I get jumped, I'm dead!"

"But you won't!" I am yelling too. My fists are clenched and I can feel the heat in my face. When did I get so angry? I can't stop yelling. "You'll be living up in some tree eating raw squirrels and picking off people with arrows." I ramble on, remembering my mother's words before she gave me the locket. "You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye to me, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized, she didn't mean me, she meant you!"

I can't read the expression on Katniss' face. She waves her hand, not meeting my eye. "Oh, she meant you."

My nails are digging into my palms. I'm not quite sure what I'm so angry about. "She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' _She_ is!" I know why I'm angry. Even though I have decided that these are Katniss' Games to win, it hurts that even from the beginning, even without knowing that I'd die for her, my mother already thought of me as dead. She had no faith in me, at all. I am breathing fast, my hands are shaking. I am forcing myself to hold my tears back, but I know Katniss can see how hurt I am.

There's a short pause while she looks at me. Then, finally, in barely more than a whisper, she says, "But only because someone helped me." She is turning her roll over and over in her hands.

She does remember that day in the rain. She remembers the bread I'd thrown to her. I feel ashamed that I had yelled at her. I shrug and try not to look at her. "People will help you in the arena. They'll be tripping over each other to sponsor you."

"No more than you," Katniss responds.

I look at Haymitch, careful to meet his eye. He got my hint earlier, before he took me to the roof. Maybe he'll catch on now. "She has no idea," I say carefully, "The effect she can have." I keep my eyes locked on his face and slowly, I see comprehension dawn on his face. The effect she can have. I felt it the day she sang, the day I threw the bread, the day we were reaped, at the ceremony, last night before I fell asleep. Love, compassion, pain, sorrow. How can one girl trigger so many different emotions. I think I see a subtle nod from Haymitch, but I can't tell. I drop my gaze from him, and quickly glance at Katniss. She looks confused. She's probably trying to figure out what I meant by my last comment. _It means I love you_.

After a few minutes of agonizing silence that seems to last for hours, Haymitch says, "Well, then. Well, well, well." He surveys us both. "Katniss, there's no guarantee there'll be bows and arrows in the arena, but during your private session with the Gamemakers, show them what you can do. Until then, stay clear of archery. Are you any good at trapping?"

_Yes, she is._

"I know a few basic snares."

"That may be significant in terms of food," Haymitch continues. "And, Peeta," he turns to me, "She's right, never underestimate strength in the arena. Very often, physical power tilts the advantage to a player." I try not look to at either of them. I really don't feel comfortable right now, for some reason. Maybe because no one has ever praised me on any of my abilities before, no one but my father. I turn my full attention back to Haymitch. "In the Training Center, they will have weights, but don't reveal how much you can lift in front of the other tributes. The plan's the same for both of you. You go to group training. Spend the time trying to learn something you don't know. Throw a spear. Swing a mace. Learn to tie a decent knot. Save showing what you're best at until your private sessions. Are we clear?"

Katniss and I both nod.

"One last thing. In public, I want you by each other's side every minute. Every minute! It's not open for discussion! You agreed to do as I said! You will be together, you will appear amiable to each other. Now get out. Meet Effie at the elevator at ten for training."

With that we are dismissed. Katniss refuses to look at me and says nothing as we return to out rooms. It is about an hour till ten. I just lay in my bed until about five of. Then, I head to the elevator. Effie is waiting. Katniss joins us a few seconds later.

We enter the elevator and glide down to the basement. We are in a huge gym. The one at school, back home, is not even half the size of this. There are many stations with deadly looking weapons at most of them. We are the last tributes to show up. The others are gathered in a circle. No one matches except Katniss and I. While the tributes from each district stand together, no one looks like they're partnering up. Well, there's the Careers but everyone knows they end up together at the beginning. Someone is pinning cloths with each tributes district to their back.

Katniss and I join the circle and get numbers pinned to our backs as well. The head trainer begins telling us the rules of the gym. We are not to engage in any physical combat with another tribute. We can try any of the stations per our mentor's instructions. There are stations dedicated to fighting, such as spear throwing, and survival orientated stations, such as how to build a fire. She dismisses us. The Careers immediately go to the stations with the most violent looking weapons. The monstrous boy from Two is clearly showing off. He's tossing spears around as if he's had this ability since he could walk. His counterpart is throwing knives at a dummy with deadly accuracy. I can't help but flinch as she send a knife right through the heart of one. Katniss is watching the Careers too. I can tell she's deep in thought.

We better get started. Gawking at the others won't get us anywhere. I keep my face expressionless as I ask, "Where would you like to get started?"

"Suppose we tie some knots?" She suggests.

"Right you are," I answer. We head over to the knot tying station. It is unnervingly empty. After only a few minutes at this station, Katniss and I are both bored. It hasn't been a complete waste. I've learned a few things about proper knots. We head over to camouflage next. I'm thinking this will be equally as boring until the instructor starts showing us how to create colors and swirl them on our skin to mask ourselves. I find I'm very good at this. It is fairly artistic, like decorating the cakes. I'm pleased that the instructor is praising my work. Katniss looks as I swirl berry juices on my hands and create and the reddish brown of mud.

"I do the cakes," I tell her.

Katniss looks confused. "The cakes? What cakes?"

_What cakes? _"At home," I say. "The iced ones, for the bakery." Ever since that day when I made a mess of myself and the piping bag, I've worked hard to perfect my icing technique. After a few years of working with my father's guidance, he finally turned the task completely over to me. I've frosted nearly every single cake our bakery has put out for the last three years.

Katniss looks again at my arm, then at me. She looks irritated. What could I have possibly done now? "It's lovely," she says. "If only you could frost someone to death."

Her tone makes me angry. But at the same time, I feel myself trying not to smile. "Don't be so superior," I tell her. Then, to lighten the mood, "You can never tell what you'll find in the arena. Say it's actually a gigantic cake –"

"Say we move on," Katniss snaps. Clearly, she didn't find my comment amusing.

So, this continues on for the next few days. We dress alike each day, travel to the stations together, and pretend to be friendly. I really do want to be friends with her. I want her to know what I'm doing. If it could be just us at the end, I would tell her everything. But, for some reason, ever since that morning we yelled at each other and brought up the bread incident, things have been cold between us.

We are sure to sit together at lunch everyday. We run out of things to talk about. As usual, I go back to bread. It's always bread. I empty our basket and begin explaining the specials breads from each of the districts.

"You certainly know a lot," Katniss tells me.

I shrug. "Only about bread. Now, laugh as if I've said something funny." We both laugh. People stare. Our laughter didn't sound too forced, but it wasn't too real either. When Katniss really laughs, something I've heard only on rare occasions, my stomach flip-flops. This time, it didn't. I sigh. "All right, I'll keep smiling pleasantly and you talk."

"Did I ever tell you about the time I was chased by a bear?" She asks.

"No, but it sounds fascinating." And terrifying. How have I let her go in the woods all these years? I knew she went out there. I knew it was dangerous. What if something had happened to her? _But,_ I think, jealousy warming my cheeks_, She wasn't alone. Gale was with her._ Katniss goes on to tell her story. I laugh at the funny parts and ask just the right questions. Haymitch would be pleased. The only thing is, right now, listening to her talking, seeing the look in her eyes as she talks about the woods and about hunting, I'm not faking. Right now, in this moment, this is real. But for her it isn't. This thought brings me back to our present situation and the knot of anxiety that has been growing ever larger over the past few days settles back in my stomach.

* * *

The next day, I notice the girl from Eleven, the one who's reaping seemed to make Katniss uncomfortable, has been following us. I wonder why. Maybe she wants to align with us at the start of the Games. Katniss and I are the only ones who look both strong and fit and who don't appear outwardly murderous and blood thirsty.

I lean close to Katniss. She smells like the woods again. I think she's discovered her favorite button in the shower. I try to keep my voice steady but so many emotions are stirring inside me right now. Finally, I get out, "I think we have a shadow."

Katniss looks at me and then sees the girl from Eleven behind me. I can tell she is studying her opponent, or possible ally. I think back to the broadcast of the reapings we watched on the train.

"I think her name is Rue," I say.

Katniss looks distraught by this information. She is biting her lip. And then, it hits me. Rue. Primrose. She is comparing Rue to her sister. It must pain her to watch Rue go through this, thinking of how easily it could have been her sister.

"What can we do about it?" She asks me.

"Nothing to do," I say. "Just making conversation." I feel like I shouldn't have mentioned Rue's presence. Katniss doesn't seem to be able to focus on training anymore. I catch her sneaking sideways glances at the girl. I should have just kept quiet.

After dinner, on the last night before our private sessions, Katniss and I walk to our rooms after an exhausting meal. Haymitch has been jumping down our throats. How did we act? Were we friendly? Did anyone say anything to us? What stations did we visit? Who saw us together?

This whole business is taking a toll on Katniss. She looks exhausted and seems to be on the verge of lashing out at everyone. Again, I try to lighten the mood. "Someone ought to get Haymitch a drink."

She laughs. I think. It could have been a snort. Is she mad again? She stops, looks at me, and says, "Don't. Don't let's pretend when there's no one around."

My heart stops. "All right, Katniss." I can't hide my exhaustion anymore.

* * *

Finally, it is the day of our private sessions. Being from Twelve, Katniss and I go last. First me, then her. We watch as each of the other tributes are called into the gym. No one talks. We are the only two left after what feels like an eternity. I'm nervous now. I can't help but fidget in my seat. My name is called. I stand and begin to walk to the gym doors. The sound of Katniss' voice stops me.

"Remember what Haymitch said about being sure to throw the weights."

"Thanks," I am surprised she remembered that. Then again, not really. She seems to have been keeping tabs on me for quite some time. "You… shoot straight." So much for only talking when others are around.

I enter the gym. The Gamemakers are at a table at the end of the room. There is an abundance of food laid out for them and a great deal of wine. The Head Gamemaker, I think his name is Seneca, is drinking deeply from his glass. They are laughing and having a grand old time. It makes me sick. This is entertainment for them. We're not people, not to them. We're animals for slaughter. No different than the pig sitting on the silver platter before them. I hate this place. I hate thse people. I'm so mad I am shaking. I go to the weights. I grab a 50 pounder and heave it to the other side of the room. No one looks. No one says anything. I am growing steadily angrier. I grab the hundred pound weight. It is surprisingly comfortable in my hands, like a bag of flour. I spin like I am throwing a discus, and heave the weight at a dummy a few yards from me. The dummy is completely obliterated. If it was a person, there would only be broken bones. Still nothing from the Gamemakers. Not a word. I grab the heaviest weight in the gym. I don't think anyone has touched it. Not even the Careers. I don't know how heavy it is but I am able to lift it thanks to the adrenaline running through my veins. I take the weight and throw it into a rack of spears. They clatter to the ground with a great deal of noise. They lay pinned beneath the weight.

Finally, they look at me. "Very well, Twelve," Seneca says, "You may go."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Hope you like! I own nothing!**

Chapter Seven:

I leave through the doors on the opposite end of the gym. It is a short walk to the elevator and soon I am back on the twelfth floor. I go to my room. I don't really feel like talking to anyone right now. I'm still angry. The Gamemakers just sat there! Talking, laughing, singing, eating; I bet most of them were drunk! It's so sickening. They don't care that the tributes are real people; sons, daughters, brothers, sisters; it means nothing to them! They're just happy to sit in their own little world, the Capitol, and eat and drink to their heart's content while watching the 24 of us battle to the death and fight off the elements.

I realize I'm pacing my room. My hands are clenched into tight fists and I'm breathing heavily. I sit on the bed and try to relax myself. Being angry won't change anything. I can't stop the Games. Not on my own. The only thing I can do is be myself. I will not let the Capitol turn me into one of their little slaves. They can throw me into the arena, but I will not turn into some blood thirsty monster like the Careers. If I am going to die for their entertainment, I will die as myself. I will show them their power can only go so far. I will die as Peeta Mellark, the baker's son, with my morals intact. I will die saving Katniss Everdeen's life.

Katniss. I wonder how she did during her session. She should be done by now. Part of me wants to go to her room and ask how she did. Part of me knows that'd be a bad idea. Katniss doesn't want to talk to me when we're not in public. I sigh. Maybe I looked to deep into that kiss on the night of the ceremony. Maybe she hasn't been watching me all these years; maybe I've just wanted her to. She doesn't want to be close to me. Well, I guess I can't blame her. I mean, if everything went perfectly, I'd protect her in the Games until we were the only two left. Then, I'd let her kill me. One way or another, she would kill me and she would win. I guess, if I was in her shoes, it would be hard to kill someone I considered a friend. I don't know how the Careers do it. Make friends, form alliances. The Careers aren't really human, I guess. They're like the people in this terrible city. Death means nothing to them. Killing is easy for them. I refuse to become one of them.

I look at the clock. Dinner will be served soon. And then we will watch the television to see the scores granted to Katniss and I, and the other tributes. I strip off my training clothes and go shower. I press the button that produces the cherry smelling foam, since I still have not found the bread button. Maybe I was so homesick, I imagined it.

Once I am clean, I dress in a crisp, white, button down shirt and some black pants. I don't bother combing my hair. At home, it is usually in a messy pile so I leave it that way. I put on my training shoes and head to the dining room.

I am the last to arrive, except for Katniss. I take a seat next to Haymitch. I'm still not in a talking mood. No one bothers me, and I am glad. They are talking about trivial things. What they had for lunch today, what so-and-so wore to that whatever it was, the weather. Katniss arrives. She sits across from me. She is the only one I want to talk to. I look up at her. She's staring intently at her plate of food. Her eyes are red and puffy. She's been crying. My stomach drops to my feet. What happened to get her so upset? Did she mess up during her session? Did the Gamemakers say she was getting a zero? I'm so scared for her right now. All I want to do is hold her in my arms and ask her to tell me what happened. I've lost my appetite. Finally, she looks up. Her eyes lock on to mine. I raise my eyebrows. _What happened?_

She shakes her head and drops her gaze back down to her plate. Next to me, I hear Haymitch shift his chair so he can get a better look at us.

"Okay, enough small talk, just how bad were you today?" He asks.

Gee, Haymitch. Thanks for the support. Katniss doesn't look up. To cover her silence, I say, "I don't know that it mattered. By the time I showed up, no one even bothered to look at me. They were singing some kind of drinking song, I think." I can feel the anger bubbling up inside me again. My hands are in fists and I can feel my face burning. I take a calming breath, then continue. "So, I threw around some heavy objects until they told me I could go." I look at Haymitch. His face is expressionless. I guess my performance didn't please him. He turns to Katniss.

"And you, sweetheart?"

Katniss jerks her head up. Her cheeks are red. She is obviously displeased with Haymitch's nickname for her. She snaps at him, "I shot an arrow at the Gamemakers."

I hear several forks clatter onto the table. I feel my eyes widen. No one is eating. Haymitch's face is a mix of emotions, Cinna and Portia are exchanging glances, and Effie looks as if someone just told her pink was no longer in style.

"You what?" She hisses.

"I shot an arrow at them. Not exactly at them. In their direction." Katniss looks at me. I can't decide if I'm proud of her bold behavior or if I'm angry that she may have hurt herself in the very near future. I hold back my smile. I guess I am proud. I've always liked Katniss' boldness. The way she sneaks out of the district, how she breaks the law everyday by hunting, how she commands respect in the Hob, a place I am too scared to go into alone.

"It's like Peeta said," she continues, "I was shooting and they were ignoring me and I just… I just lost my head, so I shot an apple out of their stupid roast pig's mouth!"

"And what did they say?" Cinna asks.

"Nothing. Or I don't know. I waked out after that."

"Without being dismissed?" Effie sounds as if she's about to faint.

"I dismissed myself," Katniss says. I can hear the defiance in her voice. She seems to be radiating defiance from her very pores.

"Well, that's that." Haymitch goes back to his meal. _That's that? _That's all Haymitch can say. No, 'Well done sweetheart,' or 'I wouldn't have done that,' or anything?

The defiance in Katniss' voice falters as she asks, "Do you think they'll arrest me?"

_Lord I hope not._ If there's one thing worse than the Games, it has to be the Capitol prisons. They might make her an Avox, though. That thought makes my stomach churn. Katniss as an Avox. I know she doesn't sing much but the thought of her not being able to sing at all!

Haymitch shrugs. _Always the comforting one, aren't you Haymitch? _"Doubt it," he says. "Be a pain to replace you at this stage."

"What about my family? Will they punish them?"

I think back to what I told my father. Protect Prim. Will he still protect her, even if Peacekeepers are sent chasing after her? Yes. He will. Because, even after all this time, he still loves her mother.

"Don't think so," Haymitch answers around a mouthful of food. "Wouldn't make much sense. See, they'd have to reveal what happened in the Training Center for it to have any worthwhile effect on the population. People would need to know what you did. But they can't since it's a secret, so it'd be a waste of effort. More likely they'll make your life heck in the arena." Again with the comfort.

"Well," I say, looking only at Katniss, "They've already promised to do that anyway."

"Very true," Haymitch says.

After this exchange, I see Katniss' face brighten. She doesn't look nearly as upset as she did at the start of dinner. I am able to relax, knowing we have cheered her up. I finish my dinner.

"What were their faces like?" Haymitch asks. He is laughing but he sounds generally curious. I realize I want to know the Gamemakers' reactions as well. I look expectantly at Katniss.

"Shocked," she says, "Terrified. Uh, ridiculous, some of them. One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch." At this, Haymitch laughs obnoxiously and I wonder if he's been drinking more than he lets on. Cinna and Portia are laughing, too. And I am laughing. Katniss looks around at us all and now she is laughing. The only one not laughing is Effie. She still looks rather green. She says something about the Gamemakers deserving it but I'm not listening. I'm lost in the sound of Katniss' laugh.

When the laughter dies down, Katniss sadly states, "I'll get a very bad score."

"Scores only matter if they're very good, no one pays much attention to the bad or mediocre ones," Portia explains. I am glad that she is not only looking out for me, but for Katniss as well. Just as Cinna has been watching out for me. Portia continues, "For all they know, you could be hiding your talents to get a low score on purpose. People use that strategy."

I realize that much of the anger I felt today has also been directed at myself. I'm angry that I didn't make more of a show in front of the Gamemakers. If I am to appear as a threat, in order to protect Katniss, then I'll need a good score. I doubt I'll get above a five. But, Portia's words soothe me and I'm not so worried about my score anymore.

"I hope that's how people interpret the four I'll probably get," I say. "If that. Really, is anything less impressive than watching a person pick up a heavy ball and throw it a couple of yards." Then, as an after thought, I add. "One almost landed on my foot." This isn't true, but I want Katniss to realize she wasn't the only one who may have screwed up their private session. Katniss smiles. I've done my job.

Soon, we are finished eating. We move over to the comfy couches and wait to watch the revealing of the scores. Each tribute's face flashes on the screen, with their score, ranging from 1 to 12, below. The Careers all get eights, nines, or tens. No shock there. There are a few sixes, mostly fours and fives. The boy from 11 gets an eight. Rue, our shadow, gets a seven.

Finally, my face appears on screen. I realize I'm gripping the couch arm so hard, my fingernails have left indents. Then, my score pops up. An eight! I got an eight! I'm up there with the Careers! I can't help but smile and relax into my seat. I hear Haymitch congratulating me. Something about me not being just about bread. Portia pulls me into a one armed hug. Cinna pats my shoulder and Effie is thrilled to finally be representing a tribute that has scored above a five.

I tune them out. Katniss is up next. Her face appears on screen. And then, an eleven. Eleven! She beat all the Careers! I have to admit, I am in shock. Effie squeals. With her pink curls, I can't help but liken her to a pig. Cinna and Portia are nearly beside themselves and Haymitch is slapping Katniss on the back. Katniss looks like she can't believe her eyes.

"There must be a mistake," her voice is a nervous whisper. "How… how could that happen?"

Haymitch laughs long and hard. "Guess they liked your temper. They've got a show to put on. They need some players with some heat."

As if on cue, Cinna jumps in with, "Katniss, the girl who was on fire. Oh, wait until you see your interview dress."

"More flames?" Katniss asks.

"Of a sort," Cinna replies. He exchanges a mischievous glance with Portia. I look at my stylist. She smiles sweetly at me. I will not be on fire this time, but Katniss will.

With that, we are allowed to go to bed. The adults hang around for "grown-up talk." When Katniss and I enter the hall, the cold air that has settled between us the last few days returns. She looks at me, but avoids my eyes.

"Nice job on the eight," she says, "Someone must have been paying attention to you." Her praise seems awkward, forced.

Mine, however, isn't. "Well look at you," I say. "An eleven. Even that brute from Two didn't score that high."

I think I see a smile flash across her lips, but it is gone quickly. "Well," she says stiffly, "Night."

"Good night."

I enter my room and shut the door behind me. I toss my shoes off and take off my socks. I don't bother looking for pajamas. The dress shirt is made of silk and is quite cool and comfortable against my skin. I climb into bed, suddenly exhausted.

As I close my eyes, I wonder what the other tributes must think of Katniss' eleven. I bet their pretty angry. I laugh out loud at this. My laughter dies out slowly and I realize; Katniss' eleven is just like our outfits at the opening ceremony. It's good because it got the audience to notice her. It's bad because now the Careers have even more of a reason to want Katniss out of the Games first. I can't help but think that she will for sure be their first target, outside of the initial blood bath at the Cornucopia.

My task of protecting Katniss just got a great deal harder. How can I expect to protect her through the deaths of 22 other tributes? And then, it hits me. Like a fist to the gut, it hits me. If I'm to protect her from the Careers, I need to be a Career.

I have to talk to Haymitch. Tomorrow. Before Katniss arrives at breakfast. I set my alarm for four in the morning. I will be up and ready, waiting for Haymitch at his bedroom door.

My alarm goes off. I silence it after the first buzz. No Effie knock this morning to wake me up. I quickly shower, not even bothering to mess with the buttons. I put the dress shirt back on and a clean pair of pants. I don't have time to find another outfit. I am hopping on one foot as I leave my room, attempting to put my left shoe on. I nearly sprint down the hall and plop myself down against the wall, across from Haymitch's bedroom door.

After what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open. I jump up and am inches from his face before he realizes what's going on."

"Damn it, Peeta!" He shouts, clutching his chest. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Haymitch, I need to talk to you. Now. It can't wait." The words are tumbling from my mouth. Now that I've started, I can't stop. "Remember the other morning when we tried to talk on the roof?"

Haymitch sighs. "Not out here. Let's sit down. Have some coffee."

I force myself to keep quiet as we walk into the dining room. We sit across from each other. Haymitch pours us both cups of coffee. I've never had the stuff and I'm too nervous to try any of it now. Haymitch sips his and looks at me thoughtfully, over the rim of his mug.

"Go on," he says.

"Haymitch, I don't want to win. I'm not trying to win. If I'm trying for anything, it's to come in second," I say.

"And who do you want first?"

"Katniss. Haymitch, she will win!" I am trying not to yell but I am so determined it will be her.

"Why?" Haymitch asks.

I drop my gaze to the cup of coffee before me. Of all people, I really don't want to discuss my feelings for Katniss with Haymitch. But I have to. "Because I love her. I've loved her all my life."

I glance up at Haymitch. To my surprise, he is smiling. "I guessed as much," he says. "So, here's how we're going to play this –"

This time, I am the one holding up a hand to silence him. "What do you mean, this is how we play this? Have you been planning something like this the whole time?"

Haymitch lowers his mug. He looks at me. I can tell he is thinking. Finally he says, "Nearly everyone with eyes can see you love Katniss, except Katniss. I expected you'd come to me with something like this, sooner or later. So, I've been working on it myself. Ever since the day I hit you on the train. Cinna and Portia have been in on it too. Why do you think you two have been matching? Why do you think Cinna had you hold hands? Why do you think I told you to stick together at training? I've been setting you up for something big, my boy. Really, how could you not see it? Do you have nothing but bread in that pretty-boy head of yours?"

I don't know whether to be angry or pleased. Not only have I been a pawn for the Capitol, I've been a pawn for Haymitch. Although, I had been hoping to use my love for Katniss to somehow win her favor with the audience. And, I did say that all the matching and hand holding and everything went right along with what I had wanted to do. Still, I feel Haymitch hasn't told me everything.

"So, what's next?" I ask.

"Next, we train you and Katniss separately, so I can coach you on exactly how to use your feelings to get the audience to love Katniss," he explains. "Right now, she's about as attractive as dirt." I open my mouth to object, but Haymitch continues. "She has no appeal, nothing for the crowds to get attached to. Now, young love, that's something the audience wants. And since you love her for real, it will be all that more convincing."

Effie enters the dining room. Haymitch silences our conversation with a look. I nod, rise from the table, and serve myself breakfast. Effie follows me around the tables of food. She looks all too perky in her pink wig, pink dress, and pink makeup.

"Well, well, well," she says brightly. "What were you boys talking about this fine morning?"

"Peeta wants to be coached individually from now on," Haymitch says gruffly. "The eleven Katniss got seems to have awakened the fight in him."

I am grateful for Haymitch's lie.

Soon, we are all seated and eating our fill. A few minutes later, Katniss joins us. She piles her plate high and sits across from me. "So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?" She looks up at Haymitch.

"That's right," he says carefully.

"You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time."

I glance at Haymitch. He looks at me and winks. "Well, there's been a change of plans," he says, "About our current approach."

"What's that?" Katniss asks.

"Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

I try not to look at her. I try to drop my gaze. But I'm not quick enough. She flashes a glare at me that is so full of hurt and anger, I can feel it. It's as if she can shoot arrows not just from a bow, but from her eyes. I hide behind my cup of coffee. I do not want to be on Katniss' bad side. _This is all for you._


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm glad you like my story. This chapter is a little shorter than the last few, but it's leading up to the interview! Thanks for reading! I don't own anything, Suzanne Collins does! =]**

Chapter Eight:

I am looking intently at my cup of coffee, but I can still feel the harsh gaze of Katniss. She is silent for a moment, no doubt deciphering my intentions at this change of plans. She has always been questioning my intentions. I can tell. The tone of her voice, the way she looks at me; she is already thinking like we are in the Games. And I guess we are. I wish I could tell her. But I can't. Maybe I'll ask Haymitch if I can tell her. Maybe that will put her mind at ease. But, will she still be able to kill me at the end of the Games?

Finally, Katniss speaks up. "Good," she says. Her tone is flat, no emotion. "So what's the schedule?"

I am wondering this myself, so I finally tear my eyes away from my cup of coffee. The stuff's not that good in my opinion, but I had to do something to distract myself from the wrath of Katniss. I turn towards Haymitch.

"You'll each have four hours with Effie for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Effie, Katniss."

I am glad Haymitch has decided to mentor me first. I can hardly contain myself now that I know a plan to save Katniss has already been set in motion. We finish breakfast in awkward silence. Katniss refuses to look at me anymore. Effie is looking between the two of us, her gaze curious. Obviously she hasn't been included in Haymitch's plan. Haymitch is eating breakfast as if his life depended on it.

When we are finished, Katniss and Effie return to Katniss' room for presentation. Haymitch leads me back up to the roof and we sit in the garden.

"Why are we up here?" I ask.

"We will be overheard if we talk anywhere else," Haymitch says in a quiet voice.

"So, your plan?"

"Look, kid," Haymitch begins, "These Games are all about a show. Doing whatever you have to in order to stay alive. I may have been drunk at the Reaping, but I wasn't stupid. I knew Katniss had some fire to her. She had the spunk needed to win these Games. And then, on the train, when you stood up to me, I saw you had it too. I watched the two of you. I saw the way you looked at her. Everyone knows, except Katniss and maybe Effie, but she's so wrapped up in the Capitol's nonsense, a flying pig would get past her." Haymitch pauses. He glances around and then continues, in an even lower voice. "So, I began thinking, one of these two could really win it this year. But I needed a way to make the audience love you. You are nothing without sponsors. Katniss is too rough and unapproachable. You're too…." Haymitch looks at me, searching for the right word. "Soft."

"Soft?" I've never been called soft before.

"You're intentions are too pure," Haymitch explains. "You're likeable, too likeable. You needed something the audience could focus on. Something to make them love you. That's when I realized, your love for Katniss. That's it. The star-crossed lovers from District Twelve. No one will be able to stop talking about you. The matching, the hand holding, training together, it's all led up to this next, very important step."

"Which is?"

"At the interview, you are going to confess your love to Katniss. To the Capitol. To everyone." Haymitch leans back in his chair and studies me.

I really don't know what to think. Haymitch's plan, well it's what I had wanted to do from the start, but didn't know how. My stomach twists uncomfortably. I've wanted to approach Katniss for years, but have always been too nervous to. How does Haymitch expect me to do this now, on live television, for all of Panem to hear?

And then, the feeling like I'm part of something bigger nags at the back of my mind. This still doesn't explain the matching very well. How would Portia and Cinna have the time to come up with our outfits just hours before the ceremony? I know Portia wasn't present and the entire remake, but she couldn't have made such a lavish outfit in such little time. I can't help but think Haymitch is leaving a lot of his plan out.

Carefully, I ask, "If I hadn't approached you, when would this plan have been set in motion?"

Haymitch shrugs. "I probably would have pulled you aside at the last possible moment. I knew you'd come around, though. Just like on the train."

"And that's it? Katniss' 'spunk,' my love for her, that's what inspired your plan?"

Haymitch doesn't look at me when he answers. "Yes."

There is something bigger going on here. But, I am no doubt powerless to stop it. If whatever scheme Haymitch is running saves Katniss' life, then I'll go along with it. So, I say, "What am I supposed to do at the interview?"

"We're gonna dress you up, pretty-boy. Make you looks irresistible. No doubt, Caesar will bring up your love life. But, you need to lead him in that direction. Be charming. Get the audience to laugh. Make them like you. Make them want to know more. Then, when Caesar asks, tell him. Tell him about Katniss. Make sure you let them know its Katniss." Haymitch is whispering so intensely, he is showering me with saliva. I am so thankful he has eased up on the drinking. His breath is no where near as foul as it was on the train.

I am filled with doubt. This plan seems to be riding on a whole lot of chance. Caesar may not ask me about my love life. Then what? "Okay," I say, "What if Caesar doesn't bring up girls? What do I do then?"

Haymitch grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me closer to him. His lips are inches from me ear. "Then find a way to bring it up!" He growls. "Everything depends on this interview!"

I pull myself away from him. "All right. So what, do I just come out and say it, if Caesar doesn't bring it up?"

Haymitch sits back. "This is what you say, if Caesar doesn't bring it up. But if I know Caesar he will. You say how you can't believe a humble baker's son is here in the Capitol. You talk about the food, the clothes, how amazing it all is. You say how the winnings from the Games would change your life, if only…" He trails off.

"If only what?"

"Ya see? That'll be Caesar's response. You say, if only you could share it with someone special. Then for sure Caesar will bring up your love life. You're timed, so if he doesn't get around to it, make sure you get the ball rolling"

I nod. "Can we… practice?"

Haymitch snorts. I think it's a laugh. "All right. So, Peeta what's your greatest strength in the arena?"

I think about this for a moment. I would say my greatest strength is my strength but Haymitch said to avoid that. "Well," I say carefully, "I think it would be my ability to ice cakes." I look at Haymitch.

He nods. "Hopefully that'll get a laugh or two, go on."

"I've found that camouflage is a lot like cake decorating. Swirling the colors, making patterns. I guess being a baker can come in handy for something other than cakes after all." I am glad my voice sounds confidant. Then again, this is Haymitch. There are no cameras, at least not ones I can see. Hopefully I can keep my confidence throughout the interview tomorrow.

"What do you like most about the Capitol?" Haymitch asks.

"The food's prime," I say. I flash a wide smile.

"Good," Haymitch tells me. "What else?"

"The showers are something else," I add. "So many buttons."

"If you bring that up during the interview, ask Caesar to sniff you."

_Sniff me?_ "Uh, what?"

"You need to bring out some more of that charm. The crowd will love it."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, pretty-boy." I'm sick of Haymitch calling me pretty-boy. But, I guess that's the kind of image I'm trying to project onto the Capitol people. So, for now, I'll have to go along with it.

"Haymitch, I think I've got this interview thing down," I say, "Can we talk about the arena?"

"All right," Haymitch says. "You're going to keep her alive. How?"

"I think," Suddenly I am nervous. I feel my stomach churning and sweat leak from my palms. "I think, I need to join the Careers. At least for the beginning. They will no doubt target Katniss. Her outfit, the eleven, don't you think?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I think," Haymitch responds. He looks almost pleased that I proposed this idea.

"Is that what you would have me do?" I ask. If I'm a pawn in some crazy plot of his, surely he had more of a plan for me than just the interview.

I see a slight look of surprise on his face. Then, he gruffly says, "I wouldn't have you do anything. I'm supposed to help keep you alive. If you want to protect her, die for her, then I'll tell you how to do it. The Careers will surely target her. You'll need to convince them not to kill you because you can lead them to her. You need to make the Capitol believe the star-crossed lovers bit, but you need the Careers to believe you've turned on her. Can you do that? Are you up for playing both sides?"

I can't help but feel even more nervous. I've kept my feelings for Katniss secret for so long, how can I play them up now? I take a few calming breaths and look down at my shoes. If she is going to win, then I have to do this. I will do this. "Yes," I say. I hear my voice as if from someone else's mouth. "I can do it."

"Good," Haymitch says. "You'll need to approach them quickly, before they get set in their alliance. But, you are too soft to survive the blood bath at the Cornucopia. When the gong sounds and starts the Games, run, get out of sight. Wait until things settle down, maybe even until the next day, before you approach the Careers. Only, when you do, make it look like they found you. Beg for your survival. Trade her life for yours."

"You mean, tell them to spare me and I'll help them find Katniss?"

"Yes."

Now this, I don't know if I can do. _ It'll be a lie, though. I would never do that to Katniss. I'm doing all this so she_ can_ live._ I nod. "All right."

Haymitch grunts. "Let's practice more for the interview. You're a charming kid, when you're not knocking wine glasses out of people's hands. Let's bring that charm out on the surface."

We spend the remainder of our four hours practicing for the interview. By the end out our time, I can joke like a pro and come back with witty comments to almost anything Haymitch can throw at me. I feel a little more at ease knowing a set plan to keep Katniss alive has been set in motion. I just hope I can live up to my part. I still don't want to become a monster like the Careers, but I guess I can act if it's what will save the life of the woman I love.

* * *

After lunch, Effie takes me to my room. She and Haymitch left the meal early. I'm sure he was filling her in on the plan. Maybe. I really don't want Effie's take on the situation. She sits me on my bed and looks deep into my face. She has tears in her pink rimed eyes.

"My boy," she says in a whisper. She shakes her head, then straightens up. Her voice is as strong and high-pitched as ever when she continues, "You look pleasant enough. Let's work on your posture."

Effie moves me to a chair in the center of the room, then circles me like a hawk. She instructs me on how to sit, how to shake Caesar's hand, how to smile. We go over my entrance, head held high, a shy but confidant wave to the crowd. She tells me how to look at the cameras without staring. We work on my tone of voice. By the end of the four hours, Effie is beaming. I'm exhausted.

"You'll do wonderfully, Peeta!" She exclaims. Then, she bends close to my ear. "Everything will turn out okay." She gives me what I guess is a hug, and then leaves me alone in my room.

_Everything will turn out okay?_ Again, Effie's perception of things eludes me. "Okay" would be Katniss and I back home in Twelve; no Games, no reaping; we could be together, and happy. That is what's "okay" in my mind. But, I guess a very, very close second would be Katniss winning the Games and returning home. She could live a happy life. She could be with Gale. He would protect her just as much as I would, I'm sure of it.

Again, I can't help but hang my head and cry. I've accepted my fate; I'm not leaving the arena alive. But, it just hurts. She'll finally know and I won't get a chance to find out how she feels about me. Katniss will finally know what the bread was for, what all those glances were about. And we won't get a chance to do anything about it. Even if she _did_ feel the same about me, nothing could come from it.

I walk into the bathroom. I remember what Haymitch said about the shower bit. I experiment with a few buttons, trying to clear my head. I find one that produces large, magenta bubbles. They stick to me and I have to scrub them off with some force. They leave my skin soft and slightly sparkling. I smell like roses. I make a note to remember what button caused this. Surely, this will be a hilarious situation to relate to Caesar. How many men walk about sparkling and smelling like roses? I have to laugh. This is the Capitol, who knows what people smell like here. I'm sure there's a sparkly boy somewhere in this city.

Once I am showered and dressed, I head down the hall to dinner. Effie, Haymitch, and the stylists are present. They are all talking in hushed voices. They don't notice my presence. I serve myself and sit at the table. I don't mind that I've been ignored. I don't feel like talking any more. My head is swimming from all that I have to remember, all the acts I have to keep up. The only thing that won't be a show is acting like I love Katniss. That won't be hard at all.

I am about halfway through my dinner when I realize Katniss still hasn't showed up. She's probably still angry about my "decision" to train separately. The adults seemed to have ended their conversation. I look at Haymitch.

"Where's Katniss?"

"Probably eating in her room," he says. There's an edge to his voice.

"Why?"

"Our session didn't go well. She's about as appealing as a slug." Haymitch looks up at me and I can see a mischievous smile play around his lips.

"What's her approach to the interview?" I ask.

Haymitch shrugs. "Try not to make it obvious that she despises everyone in the audience." He winks at me. "It's all on you, pretty-boy."

I catch his hint. It's more crucial than ever that I make Katniss look desirable.

I finish eating and head back to my room. It is still early, but I'm so overwhelmed by all that has happened today, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits my pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Thanks again for the reviews! =] Hope you like! I own nothing!**

Chapter Nine:

In the morning, I wake up to three clowns peering into my face. At first I think I'm in the middle of a nightmare, and then I realize, I know these clowns. Diamante, Misty, and Raven. My remake team. They are still in their trademark colors; pink, blue, and purple. They pull me from my bed and take me into the bathroom. I am stripped down before I even have a chance to fully wake up. I guess breakfast is out of the question. Normally, I would feel a little awkward, standing stark naked in front of three women, but I can hardly call these three women. They are so altered and painted, they don't even look human.

Diamante starts my prepping by covering me in some kind of gel. It burns, but not in the good way that the cherry soap did. It smells awful. As Diamante is spreading the stuff across my face, she explains its purpose. "This will make your skin glow! Your pores won't show, any scratches and bruises from training will be erased, as will any imperfections!" With each syllable of the word "imperfections" she dabs some of the goop on the freckles on my nose. I can't help but feel a little miffed. I didn't think my freckles were an imperfection. And what about these three? Pink, purple, and blue is normal? Misty has so many tattoos, even her eyelids are covered. And Raven, she has so many piercings in her ear, it's amazing she can even hear at all. But, this is the Capitol. I have to impress these people, so I allow them to rub the stuff all over me.

While the gel takes effect, they sit me in a chair and work on my nails. They trim them down so that they are all perfectly rounded and symmetrical. Again, they paint them with some clear liquid to make them shine. I could never get used to nail polish.

Next, they take something that looks like a pen and scan my body with it. Raven explains that this is a laser and will remove excess body hair. I thought they only shaved the girls here. Oh well. What they don't remove with the laser, Misty plucks out with a menacing looking pair of tweezers. I have to bite my lip as they do my eyebrows.

Finally, they let me shower. I make sure to press the button that makes me smell like roses. I try and shower quickly. The three clowns have felt the need to stay and watch me wash. They recommend certain settings when I do my hair.

"This conditioner will bring out the natural shine of your beautiful hair, Peeta," Misty croons. "Blonde hair is so beautiful when it shines like the sun."

"And this," Diamante reaches in and presses a button for me, "Will make it soft as a cloud."

When I am done, I hastily wrap a towel around my waist. The clowns are back in my bedroom. I am allowed to put on my underclothes, then they go to work on my hair. They comb it back and hold it in place with a light layer of gel. It doesn't look too bad. It's messy, but in an attractive way.

Diamante steps back and surveys me. "Now, Portia can work her magic."

Raven leaves the room, probably to get Portia. I am left in the chair, in my underclothes, while Diamante and Misty whisper to each other in excited, Capitol layered accents. I catch a few tidbits.

"Simply handsome!"

"They won't be able to resist him!"

I try not to blush. Me? Irresistible? Well, that'll be all the more helpful for the plan.

Portia arrives moments later. She looks pleased with her prep team. She compliments their work and dismisses them. Portia tells me to stand. She leans in close to me with a makeup pencil. She is very close to my face as she rings my eyes with a dull shade of orange. It's subtle. Like how Cinna wears his makeup.

In a very quiet voice, Portia begins to talk to me. "You look wonderful, Peeta. No girl in the Capitol will be able to take her eyes off you." She gives a light laugh when she sees I'm blushing. "Including Katniss." I must be as red as a tomato. "Peeta, their hearts will go out to you, once you tell your story."

Portia steps back. "I think just a dab or two of light blush, to bring out your cheek bones." She is talking in her normal voice."Give you that boyish charm."

I nod. Portia reaches into her bag of makeup and pulls out whatever blush is. My mother never wore makeup. Not many women in Twelve could afford the stuff. Portia dips a brush into some pink, powder like stuff. It sort of looks like confectioners sugar. She lightly brushes some on my cheeks. Not enough to make me look like some Capitol freak show, but enough to highlight my natural features. I don't look half bad, if I do say so myself.

"So, I won't be on fire tonight?" I ask.

Portia laughs. It is light and merry. I like her laugh. It is comforting. I really trust Portia. She seems genuine, not like the clowns. I feel like I could confide in her, if I had to. And I think I do. I just want to know…

"No, not tonight," she says. I shake myself from my thoughts. I will ask her later.

Portia picks up the garment bag she brought in with her. She unzips in and pulls out the most amazing suit I've ever seen. I generally don't associate sparkles with men, but on this suit, sparkles look good. The suit is made of a light, silk-like fabric. It is all black with flame accents on the cuffs of the sleeves and pant legs. The flames are adorned with small jewels and sparkle in the light, much like real flames. I wear a simple white shirt, but an orange bow tie, the same shade as my subtle eyeliner, finishes off the outfit.

Portia places me in front of the mirror. "Marvelous," she says, almost breathlessly. "Simply marvelous, Peeta."

"Thank you," I manage.

We have a few minutes before we need to leave for the interviews, so we sit side by side on my bed. At first, we talk about the interview. I know Portia is in on Haymitch's plan. She's dropping hints left and right. I can't contain myself any longer. I pretend to fidget with my eye.

"Portia, can you fix my eyeliner?" I ask.

She looks a bit confused but leans in close to me with her orange pencil.

"Portia." My voice is low and I am trying not to talk too fast, but I have to ask, I have to know. "Portia. Is all this part of something… bigger?"

My stylist pulls away from me. She looks at me with an odd expression on her face. "Peeta…" Her eyes flit to the clock above my bed. She gives herself a small shake, and stands up. "Peeta, it's time to go."

Well, I guess I'll never know.

Portia leads me out of my room and to the elevator. Haymitch and Effie are there waiting, as are my prep team and Katniss'. Not a second later, Cinna and Katniss join us. I have to hold back a gasp. Katniss is simply gorgeous in her gown. It is yellow and white and red and gold. There are light blue accents. It sparkles like the sun. Every step Katniss takes makes her appear to be engulfed in flames.

I watch her eyes as she takes in my outfit. We match, but we're not identical. We look like… what was it? I had heard stories. Back before Panem existed. Back before the Hunger Games. The country was called America, or something. There was some event for people my age. Prom, I think. That's what we look like. We look like prom.

We enter the elevator. I want to say something. I want to say she looks beautiful, radiant, breathtaking. But, my throat feels tight and dry. My stomach seems to have dropped to my feet and my heart has jumped up into my neck. I am suddenly very nervous. I have been trying for years to come forward with my feelings. Now, in just a few short minutes, I'm expected to do that in front of so many people, the Capitol, the Gamemakers, Katniss. Oh lord. And Twelve. All of Twelve will be watching. That means Gale. I don't know why this thought makes me so nervous. It's not like Gale can do anything about my feelings for Katniss now.

As Haymitch deposits us at the stage, he leans in close. "Remember, you're still a happy pair." He looks at Katniss. "So act like it." And with that, we are left at the stage. We are guided to our seats, the last ones, by an Avox.

Soon, the interviews begin. Caesar warms up the crowd. Then, the girl from One steps up. I tune out all the other interviews, trying to calm myself. I sit up straight and clench my fists in my lap. To someone in the crowd, I'm sitting with excellent posture. But, I am digging my nails into the palms of my hands. This relaxes me. I breathe slowly and evenly, clearing my head.

_The winnings would change my life forever, if only… If only I had someone to share it with._

_ Yes, there's a girl. But before the Games, she didn't know who I was._

_ You see, her name… her name is Katniss._

_ Well Caesar, she's here with me._

I repeat all these lines over and over again. All the different ways I could reveal my love of Katniss. I go over everything in my head, over and over. I tune everything else out. I am completely removed from everything else around me. This sometimes happens when I bake, when I frost. I am soon soothed and no longer feel the nerves withering around in my stomach like angry snakes.

The boy from Eleven is just finishing up. Katniss is next. She looks terrified. I give her a reassuring smile. It doesn't seem to help. She takes her seat next to Caesar. I want to listen, I want to watch. But my heart is pounding so hard against my chest, I'm surprised the other tributes can't hear it. I go back to my breathing. My nails find their grooves in my palms and I dig them in again.

I am jerked back to reality by gasps and cheers from the crowd. Katniss is twirling in her dress. She looks… I don't even know a word to describe how she looks. I swear my heart skips a beat. I am lost after that. I have no clue what Katniss and Caesar talked about for the remainder of her interview. I see her twirling over and over again. I hear her laugh. I can hear her sing. I think of that day in the rain. I think of that day she picked the dandelion. I am not nervous anymore. This isn't about me. This is all about her. Everything I am about to say, is for her. I'm not scared anymore.

The buzzer sounds. Katniss takes her seat. It is my turn. My name is called. I rise. I give that shy but confidant wave to the crowd, just like Effie instructed. I walk to the velvet chair next to Caesar. He shakes my hand. I sit. Here goes…

"Peeta Mellark! What a charming name," Caesar says. "The boy from Twelve. Is it true you are a baker's son?"

"Yeah," I say. My voice is strong and confidant. The knot in my stomach has disappeared.

"Do you help bake?"

"Of course. I do the cakes."

Caesar laughs. "I'm sure that will come in handy during the Games."

I give a laugh. "Don't count me out," I say. "The icing thing can come in handy." The crowd laughs. Good.

"How so?" Caesar asks.

"Well, icing a cake is almost like putting on makeup. I mean, I can't possibly make myself look as remarkable as you Capitol folk," I flash a wide smile at the crowd, "But I'm sure I can make myself look like a rock or a tree. The other tributes could walk right past me and not notice me." At this, I flash a smile at the other tributes. This gets the crowd laughing again.

"Never looked at it that way," Caesar chuckles. "What a charming concept."

"Well, my mentor doesn't think I'm all that charming," I say. The cameras zoom in on Haymitch. He looks puzzled. Caesar encourages me to continue and I go on. "There was a nasty little incident on the train. You see, he thought his wine was more important than mentoring me. I had to… persuade him to see reason."

Haymitch smiles. The crowd laughs. We go back and forth on the charming baker's son bit before Caesar finally asks me, "What's your favorite thing about the Capitol?"

"I would say the showers," I say after feigning thought. "But, there're just some many buttons. You never know what to expect! Tell me, do I still smell like roses?" I hold out my arm for Caesar to sniff. After a moment's hesitation, he does. The crowd is roaring with laughter.

"My boy, you do smell like roses!" Caesar exclaims. "Say, do I smell like blueberries? I was going for a blue theme this year."

I sniff Caesar. "You smell exactly like a blueberry pie." The crowed is nearly rolling on the floor. Caesar actually has tears in his eyes, he is laughing so hard. I flash another wide smile.

"Well aren't you the crowd pleaser!" Caesar says over the laughter. "Charming young lad. You must have a special girl back home."

A special girl back home. This is it.

I can feel my cheeks reddening for real. I smile a nervous smile. This is real too. I look down, so the cameras can't see my eyes. Gingerly, I shake my head.

Caesar almost snorts in disbelief. "Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

I bring my face back up so the cameras can see. I sigh and let myself shiver a bit. Show the crowd I'm nervous. "Well, there is this one girl," I begin. "I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember." All my scripts, everything I rehearsed with Haymitch is out the window. I don't need a script. This is real. These are my real feelings. This is what I've wanted to say for years. "But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." Okay, that's not entirely true. The day with the bread, all the secret glances, she knew I was alive. She may not have known my name, but she knew I was alive.

I hear the crowd give moans of sympathy. Good. They're on my hook.

"She have another fellow?" Caesar asks.

_Yes and no,_ I think._ There's Gale, but I don't know what he is to Katniss._ "I don't know," I say, "But a lot of boys like her." Gale might. I do. I don't know about anyone else. All I know is I have to make her look desirable. Make the crowd want her.

"So," Caesar says confidently, "Here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" He flashes his smile of perfect, pearly teeth and nudges my in the shoulder. Here it is. The big reveal.

"I don't think winning's going to work out," I say carefully. The edge of pain in my voice is real. "Winning… won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?" Caesar asks. He is dumbfounded. Something the Capitol's riches can't solve?

"Because," I say. My voice catches in my throat. Saying it out loud solidifies the whole situation for me. I feel my cheeks burning like they are on fire. My heart is racing. I look into the crowd. "Because… she came here with me."

I drop my gaze. I want to look at Katniss. I have to see her reaction. But I can't. If I look at her, surely I'll start to cry. I hear several people in the crowd cry out. There are moans of despair.

"Oh," Caesar says. His voice is quiet. I can hear his emotions. He is actually feeling sorry for me. "That is a piece of bad luck." The crowd shouts agreement.

"It's not good," I say. I barely get the words out. This is all too real right now.

"Well," Caesar has gained his confident tone back. I am glad. His voice is strong. I hold on to it and steady myself. I bring myself back into the conversation. "I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady." I'm glad Caesar is helping with the whole "make Katniss irresistible" thing. "She didn't know?"

I shake my head. _No. At least I don't think so. She saw those glances. There was the bread. And the kiss. Maybe she did know. Everyone else figured it out._ "Not until now."

I finally turn my head so I can see Katniss. Her cheeks are as red as the jewels on her dress. She looks surprised, shocked. Caesar is talking to the crowd, asking if they want a response from Katniss. I do. Will they bring her out and ask for her reaction? What will she say?

The buzzer sounds. My interview is done. I rise and shake Caesar's hand. "Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours." The roar of the crowd is unbelievable. I've done it. I sold Katniss to them. Surely someone will sponsor her. Someone will take pity on our situation. I stutter out a meager, "Thank you," and return to my seat. The anthem plays, concluding the interviews. I'm inches from her. Inches. And I'm too scared to look at her. I can feel the burning stares of the other tributes. Just like the opening ceremony, the tributes from Twelve have once again dominated the stage. I can feel the crowd throwing glances our way. I know the cameras are on us. I am tearing up. I can't help it. It's all so overwhelming. They believe me. And why shouldn't they? This is all real. This is all real. It's out now. No. I can't let Katniss think this is real. She is a hunter, a natural born killer. But I know, she won't be able to kill me knowing I love her. The second I get the chance, I'll tell her this was all made up. I blink a few times and the tears are gone. The anthem ends and we are led back into the Training Center.

There are mobs of people crowding around the stage. Haymitch and Effie are surrounded. Hopefully they are lining up our sponsors. Portia and Cinna are inundated with people complimenting their work. I step into the elevator. Katniss isn't with me. The boy and girl from eleven are here, as is the girl from five.

When I step out onto the twelfth floor, I am slammed into a table with a large vase of flowers. The vase falls to the floor, shatters, and I fall amongst the shards. I look up, surprised. Katniss is standing above me. She looks even angrier than she did the other morning when Haymitch told her we would train separately.

"What was that for?" I stammer. I pull myself into a sitting position. My hands sting. I pick pieces of glass from my palms.

"You had no right!" Katniss is yelling. "No right to go saying those things about me!"

I don't get a chance to respond. The elevator opens and Haymitch, Effie, and the stylists step out.

Effie takes in the scene, looking aghast. "What's going on? Did you fall?"

"After she shoved me," I say. Portia and Cinna come over to me and grab my arms. They help me up, looking at my hands with concern.

Haymitch is yelling at Katniss. Katniss is yelling back. I am no stranger to pain, I've been hit and burned enough to be used to it. But the pieces of glass sting my hands and no amount of pressure stops the bleeding. I don't hear what they are saying, but no doubt Katniss is blaming Haymitch for all of this. Before I can stop myself, I say, "It was my idea. Haymitch just helped me with it."

Katniss rounds on me. "Yes, Haymitch is very helpful. To you!"

Haymitch and Katniss yell at each other some more. Haymitch tells Katniss I made her appear desirable, wanted. The whole star-crossed lovers bit really got the audience's attention. Cinna leaves my side and goes to comfort Katniss. Portia stays by my side, holding my throbbing hands in her cool ones. I can't help but wish for some of that magic gel that erases cuts and bruises.

"I should have been told," Katniss snaps at all of us. "So I didn't look so stupid."

"No," Portia says, still staying with me. Her voice is as calm and reassuring as ever. "Your reaction was perfect. If you'd known, it wouldn't have read as real."

This statement catches me off guard. Wouldn't have read as real. So, Katniss believed it. At that moment, when everything was real for me, it was real for her too. The blush was real. But why did she blush? Does she feel the same for me? Or is she worried about what Gale will think?

I can't help but feel a rush of anger at this. I throw a piece of glass from my hand down the hall. "She's just worried about her boyfriend." The venom in my voice shocks me.

Katniss blushes again. "I don't have a boyfriend," she snaps.

"Whatever," I say. "But I bet he's smart enough to know a bluff when he sees it. Because _you_ didn't say you loved _me_. So what does it matter?" There. Now she'll think it was all an act. Not knowing what her reaction meant will be better for me. Letting her think it's all fake, no matter what she feels, it will be better, easier, for her to kill me and win.

I try and hold on to this frame of mind until Portia mentions that it would be easy for the crowd to think Katniss was in love with me as well, due to her reaction. Now I don't know what to think. The glances, the kiss, the blush, and then she pushed me. I have no idea what Katniss' feelings are for me.

Katniss turns to face me. "I'm sorry I shoved you." She doesn't sound all that sorry.

I shrug. "Doesn't matter," I say. Then, because I'm so upset, so confused, so angry, I snap, "Although it's technically illegal."

"Are your hands okay?" She sounds genuinely concerned now.

"They'll be all right."

An awkward silence fills the hall. No one looks at Katniss and I. Finally, Haymitch breaks the tension. He leads us to the dining room for dinner. After we are all seated and served, we begin eating. I wrap my hands in napkins, but blood soaks through quickly. I can hardly hold my fork.

"Come Peeta," Portia says. She rises from the table and places her hands on my shoulders. She guides me out of the room and takes me to the ground floor of the Training Center. There is a small room with the word "Medical" above the door in stark white letters. No one is present.

Portia sits me on a cold, metal table and then begins rummaging in cabinets. She returns to me with some bandages and some kind of salve to put on my hands. I wonder why she doesn't just use the gel that the clowns used earlier.

"Can't we just use that gel stuff from earlier?" I ask. I can't help but wince as she wraps the bandages around my wounds.

She gives a light laugh. "That can only be used on scars. Wounds that have healed, but have left their marks."

"Oh." She finishes my hands and then, gives me a light kiss on the head. I can't help but feel uncomfortable. No one, especially not my mother, has shown affection for me like that. Portia must truly be concerned for me. She must care about me.

Portia looks me right in the eyes and says, "Yes."

For a minute I am confused. Then, I remember. _Is all this part of something bigger?_ Yes. It is.

Portia smiles. "Let's get back to dinner."

We return to the dining room in time to finish the last course, and then enjoy dessert. After that, we watch the recap of the interviews. I don't understand why we have to watch the recaps of all these events. We were there, we lived them. Again, I remind myself this is the Capitol. Everything is strange here. My mind wanders and I can't help but guess at what the bigger plan is. Portia confirmed my suspicions but I have no idea what the goal of this plot could be.

When the recap is over, Effie and Haymitch bid us farewell. They will not take us to the Games; that's Portia and Cinna's jobs. Effie gushes about how she's never had such good tributes. She's actually crying. Haymitch gruffly shakes my hand.

"Any final words of advice?" I ask him.

"When the gong sounds, get the hell out of there. You're neither of you up to the blood bath at the Cornucopia. Just clear out, put as much distance as you can between yourselves and the others, and find a source of water. Got it?"

I nod. Katniss asks, "And after that?"

"Stay alive," he says. This time, there is no humor in his voice.

Cinna escorts Katniss to her room. Portia walks with me to mine.

"Try and get some sleep," my stylist says sweetly. "It'll help. But if you can't sleep, try and relax. Sit on the roof. Just, breath."

I nod. She pulls me into a hug. "Good night, Peeta."

I nod at her, too emotional to speak. I have never been treated so kindly by someone. I know my father loves me, but he never showed affection. And my mother, well, all I ever got from her were beatings. I shower, careful to avoid wetting my bandages too much. I put on some light, silk pajamas and climb into bed. I lay my head on my pillow. I know Portia said to get some sleep, but there will be no sleeping tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Another short one, sorry it took so long. Things will get interesting now! I own nothing! Enjoy =]**

Chapter Ten:

After a few hours of tossing and turning, I decide going up to the roof will be more relaxing than laying in my bed, in the dark, worrying about the next few days. I pull on the jacket I wore my first night here, slip on my shoes, and leave my room. The hallway is dark; everyone must be in bed. I shiver. It's creepy. The Training Center is still and quiet. I'm sure the sound of my breathing is being carried all the way to the first floor. I pull my jacket tighter around my shoulders. It still smells like Katniss. I feel a little better being surrounded in her scent.

Once I am up on the roof, I sit on a bench, overlooking the city. The Training Center may be quiet, but the Capitol is wide awake. People are celebrating in the streets. Singing, laughing, dancing. I'm sure the lot of them are drunk. And it's all because the Games begin tomorrow. If their kids were tributes, I bet they wouldn't be running around like morons in the middle of the night. Or maybe they would. I don't know. These people make me sick.

"You should be getting some sleep."

I jump. But I am not all that surprised. I smile and shake my head. I knew Katniss would be up. I'm glad she is. I don't want to sit up here alone.

"I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all." My voice drips with sarcasm. Katniss joins me at the railing.

"Are they in costumes?" She asks.

I shrug. "Who could tell? With all the crazy clothes they wear here." I turn and look at her. Her hair falls around her shoulders in a thick, brown curtain. She is in a thick nightgown. She looks more beautiful now than she ever has with all the makeup and costumes and flames. "Couldn't sleep?" I ask.

"Couldn't turn my mind off," she answers. I know the feeling.

"Thinking about your family?" No doubt she was. Winning the Games would mean she and her sister would never go hungry again.

"No," Katniss answers. I can hear the guilt in her voice. "All I can do is wonder about tomorrow. Which is pointless, of course." She pauses for a moment and her voice sounds even guiltier when she adds, "I really am sorry about your hands."

"It doesn't matter, Katniss," I tell her. "I've never been a contender in these Games anyway."

"That's no way to be thinking."

"Why not? It's true." I can't hide the pain in my voice. "My best hope is to not disgrace myself and…" I trail off. I want to tell her. _My best hope is to protect you. _My voice catches in my throat.

"And what?"

I take a breath. "I don't know how to say it exactly." My mind is working fast; thinking up something else to tell her. "Only… I want to die as myself," I finally say. At least this is true. It wasn't what I was going to say, but it's true. "Does that make any sense? I don't want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I'm not." My stomach twists again at the thought of joining the Careers. Those blood thirsty beasts. If I join them, surely I will have to help them kill. But, Haymitch agrees, joining them is the best way to keep them off Katniss' tail.

As if reading my mind, Katniss asks, "Do you mean you won't kill anyone?"

I shrug. "No, when the time comes I'm sure I'll kill just like everybody else. I can't go down without a fight. Only I keep wishing I could think of a way to…" I trail off again. If, at the end, it's Katniss and I… and if I kill myself… that'll show the Capitol they don't own me. "To show the Capitol they don't own me. That I'm not just a piece in their Games."

"But your not," Katniss says. This irritates me. "None of us are. That's how the Games work."

I am frustrated. "Okay, but within that framework, there's still you, there's still me. Don't you see?"

"A little," she replies. "Only… no offense, but who cares, Peeta?"

I suppress an angry sigh. "I do," I am forcing my voice to stay clam. "I mean, what else am I allowed to care about at this point!" Well, I've failed at keeping my voice neutral. I glare at her, daring her to answer._ I'm allowed to care about you._

"Care about what Haymitch said," Katniss shoots back, her eyes locked on mine. "About staying alive."

This just makes me angrier. I want her to know so badly. Yeah, I told her that the whole "in love with Katniss" thing was an act, but I've been dropping so many hints. I want her to know. I want her to understand why I'm doing all of this. I'm doing this so she can win, because I really do love her. But she can't see it. I laugh sadly. Smiling up at her, I say, "Okay. Thanks for the tip, sweetheart."

She's mad now. I can see it in her eyes. "Look," she snaps, "If you want to spend the last hours of your life planning some noble death in the arena, that's your choice. I want to spend mine in District Twelve."

"Wouldn't surprise me if you do," I say. "Give my mother my best when you make it back, will you?" This remark not only hurts me, but I know it touches a nerve in Katniss as well. My mother has never been fond of her, or her sister. Yelling at her for picking through our garbage, snapping at her sister for leaving fingerprints on the windows whenever they looked at the cakes. And then, just the other night, didn't we get into an argument over something my mother had said?

"Count on it," Katniss snaps at me. Her voice is venomous. She turns on her heel and stalks back inside.

I sit for a moment. The noises from the parties have died down a bit. Most people are going to bed. They don't want to miss the beginning of the Games. The wind is light and cool and it calms my temper.

Good lord, I'm so confused. I just don't know who I am right now. I'm Peeta. The baker's son. I am not playing these Games to win. I am playing to keep Katniss alive. Because I love her. I really do love her, but I'm using that as an act to get her sponsors. She thinks it's an act, but I want her to know it's real. I'm going to be acting like I'm one of the Careers, in order to protect her. That's not real. No matter what happens, no matter how much I act, I will not become one of those monsters. I will play their games and tell them what they want to hear but I will not be one of them.

I have no clue what time it is. I've sat here so long, all the celebrations have ended. The city is still. I rise and walk back inside. I go back to my room. Still wearing the jacket with the faint smell of Katniss, I climb into bed. Simply because I'm so exhausted, I fall asleep.

* * *

Portia wakes me the next morning. It feels like I've only gotten a few minutes of sleep. She has me dress in a simple t-shirt and pants, and escorts me to the roof. We don't talk. I am glad. If I open my mouth, I think I might vomit. On the roof, a hovercraft is waiting for us. It's a sight. Large, looming, and made of a shiny black metal, it sits in the air. It is eerily quiet, a cushion of air holding it in place.

A ladder drops down and Portia motions for me to climb up. I grab hold of the ladder and am instantly stuck. Some kind of force is holding me to the ladder. I couldn't let go, even if I wanted to. The ladder retracts into the hovercraft and once I am inside, I try to pry myself from the ladder. I still can't move.

A woman in a white coat walks over to me. She has a terrifying needle in her hand. "This is your tracker," she says flatly. She injects my tracker into my forearm. It stings and burns. There is a slight red glow under my skin. From now on, the Gamemakers will have a constant eye on me. I won't be able to sneeze without them knowing.

Once the needle is pulled from my arm, whatever holding me to the ladder releases me. The woman with the needle walks away. I don't know what to do, so I simply sit in a chair a few feet away. The ladder drops back down and moments later, Portia joins me.

She must see the nervous look on my face because she smiles sweetly. She holds out an arm and escorts me to a room with breakfast.

"If I try and eat something, it'll just come back up," I manage to say.

"Eat." Portia says. Though kind, her voice commanding. This is an order. I follow her to the table and pick some fruit. Something that'll be light on my stomach but still filling. I manage to shovel down nearly an entire bunch of bananas, two apples, and more grapes than I could count. The only thing I drink is water.

After a while, the windows go black. We must be getting close to the arena. Portia explains that the windows tint so that no tribute can see the arena before the Games officially start. Wouldn't want someone to have an unfair advantage. I am glad the windows have darkened. Watching the world fly by in a blur of color wasn't helping my nausea.

The hovercraft comes to a stop. Portia guides me to the ladder. I am frozen in place and the ladder lowers me into a dark, metal tube. I am underground. Portia touches down, besides me. She leads me to my Launch Center.

The room consists of a small sitting area, a bathroom, and a glass tube, similar to the metal one that the hovercraft dropped me into. Portia has me shower and clean up and then she prepares my outfit. Nothing fancy today. All the tributes wear the same clothes in the arena. I'm glad that the clothes are pretty practical. I pull on the underclothes and then the sturdy, brown pants. A green t-shirt type top is next, and then a black jacket with a hood. It is made of a strange material that is both light and durable. Portia explains how it will insulate me on cold nights. Finally, she gives me my boots. They are black leather, not too heavy. They go up just above my ankles. They are comfortable, fit well, and are similar to the shoes I wore in training. Once I am ready, Portia and I sit on the small couch across from the glass tube.

"Peeta," Portia says in her soft voice, "Do you have your token?"

My eyes widen. I had completely forgotten about my token. I feel around my neck. The locket is still there. I realize, I had never taken it off, in all my time here. And no one mentioned it. Not Portia, not my prep team. I had worn this locket since the day I told Effie I forgot it on the train. It's like, it has become part of me. I can't help but tear up. This locket is the closest I have ever been to my mother.

Portia's cool hand wraps around mine. Right now, I wish she was my mother. I have never wished for my mother's touch before, but now, that's all I want. Portia's free hand rests on my cheek and she turns my face to hers. She brushes my tears away with her thumb. Her amber-brown eyes lock on mine and in a firm voice I had never heard her use before, she says, "Peeta, I believe in you."

I want to say something to her. I want to tell her how much her support and her kindness has meant to me. But I can't find the words. And then, I don't get a chance. A voice comes over a loud speaker, telling me it's time to prepare for launch.

Portia stands, her hand still around mine. She walks with me to the tube and, right before I step in, she kisses me on the cheek, right where Katniss had after the ceremony. I put my hand to the spot, absorbing Portia's warmth.

"Peeta, do as Haymitch told you and everything will turn out all right." She gives my hand a last squeeze and then I am sealed in the tube. I put my fingers to my lips and press them against the glass. She smiles and I can see the tears in her eyes. The floor rises and I am moving up towards sunlight; into the arena.

I am in open air. There is a slight breeze and it smells of pine needles. I am looking right at the Cornucopia. There are weapons and bags of food and so many other useful things. But Haymitch said to run. I know the clock in ticking down. In less than a minute, the gong will sound and the Games will have begun. I look frantically around the circle of tributes until my eyes fall on Katniss. I can see she is staring intently at something in the mouth of the Cornucopia. My eyes follow her gaze. There, glinting in the sun, is a silver bow and a sheath of arrows. Haymitch had told her to run, but I know she will go for the bow. I look back at her and am surprised she is looking at me. I shake my head, ever so slightly.

Then, the gong sounds. I don't have time to think. The other tributes are all running towards the Cornucopia. I have lost Katniss in the crowd. I turn my back to the treasures and run as fast as I can towards the trees. Once I am hidden from view, I will find a place to hide until the blood bath is over. Then, I will have to become a Career.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Enjoy! I sort of made up the Career from 4 since she wasn't talked about much in the book. I own nothing.**

Chapter Eleven:

I can still hear the screams and the moans of the dying. I have hidden myself in a thicket of bushes at the edge of the forest. The lake is a short distance to my left. Surely, the Careers will stockpile the supplies from the Cornucopia and make camp somewhere near the lake. Crouching in the dirt, I slowly begin to mask myself. My breathing has finally returned to normal and the sweat has stopped pouring of my face. But my heart still races.

I can hear the Careers laughing. They are talking. From what little I can see through the thick leaves, the tributes from both One and Two are in the alliance, no shock there, and the girl from Four. I haven't seen her counterpart. And there's one more hanging around with them. I think the boy from Three? I'm not sure.

After what feels like hours, the hovercrafts finally come to collect the dead bodies. They are eerily quiet in their approach and are silent in their work. I try and look at each fallen tribute. What if one of them is Katniss? My mouth goes dry. She ran for the Cornucopia, for that bow, I'm sure of it. I should have followed her! I should have done something! If she died during the blood bath, there's no point to me being in these Games. I should just turn myself over to the Careers and let them have their way with me.

I feel like I'm going to be sick. I can't stop thinking that Katniss is one of those dead bodies being picked up by the hovercrafts. And then, to make matters worse, I see the girl from One prancing about with the bow and arrow. Oh God, she killed Katniss.

I can feel hot, salty tears forming around my eyes. I can't cry. Not now. I will wait. Katniss is resourceful, she is a hunter. She will not have gone down so easily.

I am so thirsty, but I dare not move from my hiding spot. I have quite a vantage point of the Career's camp and I am well hidden. They seem to be taking inventory of their supplies. The boy from Three, he's playing around in the dirt around the launch platforms. I have no idea what he's doing.

The Careers all seem to be at ease. It's like they're having fun. Which they probably are. They've trained their whole lives for this. The boy and girl from Two are dividing up weapons. Someone makes the comment to look for stragglers.

My mind sparks. They are going to look for the tributes that have fled for the safety of the woods, but who have hung around to pick through the remains of the Cornucopia. This is the perfect time to let them find me.

I shift in my hiding spot so I'm a bit more noticeable. I don't bother keeping quiet, I want them to find me. For some reason, I hope it's the boy from Two who finds me. Even though he is the most monstrous, the rest all have this eerie blood lust in their eyes. I can tell Two wants to kill Katniss. If the other Careers kill all his other opponents, he will be happy as long as Katniss is his.

I get my wish. Two is heading my way, a spear in his hands. There is blood all over him and I can't help but think he is wearing it as some sort of trophy. He is getting closer to me. I stick my boot out, just enough, so he can see my toes. He is feet from me. I can't breath but my heart is pounding against my rib cage. Surely he can hear it.

Then, I am pulled roughly out from the bushes by my ankle. The boy from Two is holding his blood stained spear inches from my neck. He is smiling.

"Well, well, well," he says. His voice is deep and cold. "What do we have here? Lover-boy?"

I clench my fists. Now is the time. I have to be strong. I swallow all my fear and actually push his spear away from me. I can see he is surprised. I stand.

"Peeta, actually," I say, much braver than I feel. "Or weren't you paying attention?"

The spear is back in my face, right between my eyes. "You're pretty brave for someone about to die," Two spats.

I shrug. "Yeah, you kill me and you'll never find her."

I can see his brain working out this last statement. He drops the spear a few inches and I can see his muscles relax slightly. He looks confused and thoughtful at the same time. Obviously he hasn't killed Katniss or else this statement would have only resulted in my death.

"Let me spell it out for you," I say. I take a step towards him and brush the spear away again. I can see him look me over. I am obviously unarmed so he let's me continue. "Katniss thinks I'm in love with her. She thinks, when it comes down to it, I'll protect her if she needs it. You see, that's all an act. She's a hunter. I've seen how she kills. Right through the eye. She won't hesitate. Now, I can't compete with that. You help me eliminate her, and she's out of the picture for both of us. What do you say?"

I hold my hand out. I force it to stay still and not shake. Two looks at my hand, then at my face, and back again. An evil smile plays about his lips. Yeah, he'll go along with this. And then kill me the second he can. Whatever, this is all to protect Katniss.

He grabs my hand in his. It is strong and firm. He gives it a shake. "Whatever you say, Lover-boy."

"Peeta," I say again.

"Whatever. So, what can you do besides look pretty for the cameras?"

Shrugging, I take his spear. Being this aggressive towards a Career would surely result in death for anyone else. But, being confidant seems to work in this situation. Plus, he needs me to get to Katniss. Or he thinks he does. "I'm pretty hanyd with a spear," I say. I aim the spear at a squirrel in a nearby tree. I've thrown a few spears in practice, but without much success. Oh well. I throw it at the squirrel and miss spectacularly.

Two is nearly rolling on the ground, laughing. "Ha! Well, at least you'll be good for one thing. Finding your little girlfriend." He retrieves his spear and we walk back to his camp. Well, our camp now. I guess. I'm still quite shocked that I'm not dead.

When we reach camp, the boy from Three is burying some metal objects in the ground around a pile of supplies. He looks up when we reach him.

"Cato," he says, "What's this? You brought Lover-boy back and he's not dead?"

"Oh shut it," Cato snaps. Cato, what a lovely name for this monster. "Finish playing in your dirt or I might just have to finish you off now."

Three shoots Cato an icy glare. He turns back to the metal thing in the dirt. "So, what's he here for?"

"He's gonna help us find Twelve," Cato says. He launches his spear and it sticks into the ground. Cato flops onto the ground besides it and pulls an apple from the pile of stuff. Between bites, he recaps our conversation to Three. He has conveniently left out my sarcastic remarks and instead makes it sound like I've begged for my life. Whatever. I begin rummaging through the supplies, finding myself a nice knife. I tuck it into my belt.

"So, what's all this for?" I ask, motioning at the dirt.

"The minse from the launch platforms, dolt," Three says. "Gotta have our stuff secure. Wouldn't want your girlfriend coming up and stealing it."

I nod. I would have never thought to use the landmines as weapons before. These Careers sure have their heads in this game. There's a noise behind us and the girls from One and Two return. Two gives me a menacing stare.

"What. Is. He. Doing. Here. Alive." She spats at Cato. Between each of her fingers is a deadly looking knife. I'm sure she's just itching to throw every one of her weapons into my chest.

Cato saunters over to her and puts his arm on her shoulder, leaning against her. He is tall, muscular and blonde. She is short and thin with dark eyes and dark hair. They both look deadly. "Lover-boy's gonna help us get that brat," he says. "Then, we can kill him however we want, Clove."

So, the murderous little witch from Two is Clove. How sweet? I give a laugh at Cato's remark, as if this really is all a game. "Right, if I don't kill you first." I wink at him and toss my knife. Somehow, against all odds, my knife actually lands in Cato's apple and knocks it to the ground. I don't know what I was thinking. If that knife had hit Cato, well, I wouldn't be standing here right now.

Cato and Clove look from the apple, to me. They looked shocked. Then, to my relief, Cato laughs. "Handy with a spear? I think you better stick with knives." He picks his apple from the ground, wrenches the knife from it, and tosses the weapon back to me. I manage to catch it by the handle and tuck it into my belt.

Clove rolls her eyes. "So he can throw a knife. Anyone can throw a knife. Lucky shot." Clove pushes me aside and sits near the pile of spoils, searching for a snack herself. The other girl sits down besides her. She hasn't taken her eyes off me since she arrived back at camp. She is the stunningly beautiful, but fierce looking girl from One. She knows I'm watching her as well.

"Glimmer," she says, flicking her thick hair over her shoulder. The sheath of arrows is slung over her back. I can't help but feel a stab of anger. Those arrows were meant for Katniss.

"Peeta," I say back. I assume Glimmer is her name. Otherwise it's a very odd greeting. I cross my arms and look at the Careers before me. Cato's head is in Clove's lap and they are both eating apples. Glimmer is cleaning dirt from under her fingernails. Three is the only one still working. This really is just a party for them. They are enjoying themselves. Cato and Clove begin discussing their kills from this morning. I tune them out. It's sickening, hearing the pleasure in their voices. I am getting antsy. I don't like sitting here with them. I want to be doing something. Anything. I don't want to sit here and pretend I'm enjoying myself.

"Shouldn't we be out looking for prey?" I ask. I see Cato's eyes widen at my use of the word prey. Obviously, he didn't liken me to a Career like himself.

"Yeah sure," he drawls. "Once Marvel and Kole get back."

"Who?"

"The boy from One," Clove says. She drives one of her knives into the ground. "And the girl from Four." She is still looking at me with venom in her eyes. I'll have to watch out for her. I wouldn't put it past her to kill me in my sleep.

* * *

It is dark. We are moving like a wolf pack through the woods. Hunting. Cato is in the lead with his spear and a flashlight. Clove and Glimmer are on his tail, looking excited. Glimmer has the bow armed but, with some satisfaction, I see she doesn't hold it nearly as expertly as Katniss does. The light from our flashlights flicker off Cloves knives, making them look even more frightening. Marvel is in the back with Kole. Kole armed herself with a heavy axe. Marvel, like Cato, prefers spears. I am in the middle, with my knife.

When the anthem plays, we all pause and look up at the sky. The faces of the dead flash before us. I am holding my breath. All though, I don't know why. Surely, if the Careers didn't kill her then Katniss is still alive.

The girl from Three is the first fallen tribute. Then the boy from Four. Kole gives a snort as if it is a disgrace that a Career is already dead. The boy from Five is dead, as are the tributes from Six and Seven. A boy from Eight, both from Nine, and then the girl from Ten. The Capitol seal is back in the sky and the recap is over. Katniss is alive. I release my breath. She's still safe.

"All right, Lover-boy," Cato calls from the front. "Where's your little girlfriend?"

I know full well where she is. Up in some tree. But, I can't tell them that. "She's probably hidden in some bushes. Probably asleep. She didn't sleep well last night."

Cato and Clove laugh. "Probably worried what her pathetic little sister would think, watching her die," Clove says. She looks at Glimmer and the two start giggling.

"Keep your eyes on the ground, then," Cato says. "And when –" He stops abruptly.

"What?" Clove hisses at her counterpart.

Cato, his evil smile widening, points to our left. There, a few yards away, is the unmistakable orange glow of a fire. My stomach twists. What if it's Katniss? No. It wouldn't be her. She would know better than to give herself away like that.

Clove and Glimmer are giggling again. They really enjoy this killing thing. Marvel says, "Well, what are we waiting for?"

As quiet as possible, we move over to the source of the fire. Cato keeps glaring at me as my feet crunch through the undergrowth. I've never been good at sneaking around. It's a miracle, really, that Katniss hasn't spied me watching her all these years.

We are just feet from the fire. Cato breaks out into a run and the rest of us follow. There is a girl, asleep by the fire, but it is not Katniss. I knew it wouldn't be.

She wakes with a start and her eyes widen at the sight of us barreling down on her, weapons raised. Cato jumps the last few feet separating him from his prey. He lands inches from her, laughing.

"No," she gasps. "No, please!" I look away as Cato plunges his spear into her stomach. Clove, Glimmer, and Marvel are laughing. Kole is silent, but smiling. I try and put on a smile as if this innocent girl's death pleases me.

Cato rips his spear from her and sprinkles us all with her blood. The dying girl gives an agonizing scream. I try and hold down the bile coming up the back of my throat. In the dim firelight, I can see her scarlet blood soaking the forest floor. With each pained breath she takes, more blood oozes out of the gaping hole in her stomach.

Cato looks at us. "Twelve down and eleven to go!" He shouts. The group cheers and slaps him on the back. Because I'm supposed to be one of them, I join in.

Relishing in the praise, Cato smiles. "Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking," he says. The dying girl gives an agonized wheeze. She isn't even dead yet. How terrible it must be to sit there and watch the blood pour from your body, feel every painful breath, and then watch your murderer and his friends cheer your death. I feel so sorry for this girl. For all of us, expect maybe the Careers.

While the girl is still clinging to life, Clove roughly searches her for supplies. "Nothing! What a twit!" Clove spats. She kicks the girl back against a tree. Blood washes over the forest floor. I can still see her labored breaths.

We carry on but only get a few paces away from the girl. I can still hear her wheezes. "Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Marvel asks.

Kole speaks for the first time. "I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately."

"Unless she isn't dead," Marvel states, looking at Cato.

Cato turns on him. "She's dead. I stuck her myself."

_Stuck? More like mutilated._

"Then where's the cannon?" Marvel snaps back.

Glimmer rolls her eyes. "Someone should go back and check. Make sure the job's done."

"Yeah," Marvel says, looking intently at Cato. "We don't want to have to track her down twice."

Cato looks livid. "I said she's dead!"

Marvel and Cato step close to each other and begin arguing. Glimmer and Clove join in, not helping matters at all. All the while, I can hear the labored breaths of the dying girl. I just want her to stop. To let go. I want her suffering to end.

Finally, because I can't take it anymore, I say, "We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on."

Before they can answer, I turn, gripping my knife so hard my hand is shaking. I can feel a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead and my breathing is shallow and uneven.

Within seconds, I am back with the dying girl. There are tears in her eyes and she looks at me, her chest heaving. She'll die soon, but she'll suffer through hell before she does. I bend down to her, my eyes dripping with tears as well.

As quietly as I can, I whisper to her, "You'll be in a better place." I'm sure she will be. I clutch my knife and stab her in the chest. She gives one final lurch and then is still. The cannon fires. I gently shut her eyes, wipe my knife clean, and rejoin the Careers. I have killed someone. No. Cato killed her. I ended her suffering. This thought puts my stomach at ease and I swallow the bile that has returned to the back of my throat. I shove my knife back in my belt and quickly wipe my eyes and calm myself. When I am back with the Careers, I am composed. "Let's go."


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks so much for the reviews! I'm so glad people enjoy my story. I hope you like the update! I own nothing! =]**

Chapter Twelve:

"Was she dead?" Cato asks, a smug smile on his face.

"No," I say. Cato's smile slides down his face to be replaced by an irritated frown. Marvel is looking at Cato with an "I-told-you-so" look on his face. Even though the Careers all act like friends, they truly hate each other. The second this alliance is no longer favorable, they will turn on each other like rabid dogs. "But she is now," I say. Cato's smile is back. "Ready to move on?"

"Yeah," Cato says. He slings his spear over his shoulder and lets his flashlight lead the way. "Lover-boy, up here with me."

My eyes widen. What does Cato want me with him for? Marvel shoots me a dirty look. When I'm next to Cato, he puts an arm around my shoulder like he's my older brother or something. Older brother. That's funny. Hutch has never shown any type of affection for me. "What's up?" I ask.

Cato looks down at me. He's a good four inches taller than I am. Being this close, I can see the madness in his eyes; that evil little glint. There's a cut on his cheek and it's scabbed over with dried blood. It makes him look even more menacing. His nasty little grin is still plastered on his face. "Nice job back there," he says. "Finishing that twit off. Didn't think you had it in you."

I'm not sure if I should be flattered. No. I shouldn't. I don't want to be complimented by Cato. I don't want Cato to think I'm like him. But right now, I have to act like I am, so I say, "Thanks. You should have seen her. Sniveling like a mewling kitten. Disgraceful. Stabbed her in the heart. That shut her up." I hope they don't hear the crack in my voice. It's tearing me apart, saying things like that. But, if they knew how it really happened, they'd turn on me in a second and I'd have no hope of protecting Katniss from them.

We walk on for a few more hours. The sun is starting to rise when Cato finally comes to a halt. "All right," he says, "We rest up a bit, then continue on. I want Twelve dead by tomorrow." For a second, I think he means me, and my stomach gives a jolt. Then I realize, he means Katniss and for the third time in just a few hours, I resist the urge to vomit.

Cato stabs the ground with his spear and then drops his pack down besides it. He uses his pack as a pillow and after gulping down half his canteen, he is asleep. He snores. It sounds like a dog growling. It suites him. Clove curls up next to him, a knife locked firmly in her fingers even though sleep has claimed her as well. Marvel rolls his eyes at them. He plops down in a sitting position and pulls some bread out of his pack.

"I guess I'll take first watch since Cato is sleepy," he says. His hatred of Cato is clearly obvious. Marvel is thin, but well muscled. I wouldn't put it past him to kill Cato, if the two ever got into it. Which they will, as soon as this alliance ends. Actually, no. If I have it my way, I'll let these monsters kill everyone else until it's just us and Katniss left. Then, I'll kill them in their sleep and let Katniss kill me.

Glimmer spends a few minutes clearing away a spot to lie down. Kole sleeps next to her and I can hear the two whispering together. They bring up Clove's name quite a bit. I imagine, besides Katniss, Clove is the most hated girl in the arena. Glimmer may act like her friend, when Clove is looking, but when she's not around, it's obvious Glimmer hates Clove as much as Marvel hates Cato. I wonder where Kole and the kid from Three fit into this hierarchy? I know I'm at the bottom. They would get rid of me without even thinking twice. All this sneaking around, lying, killing, fake alliance, it makes my head spin.

Marvel is watching me. He is waiting for me to lie down. I don't trust him. His weasel like face and his amber eyes. He just looks sleazy. Under his watchful gaze, I make myself comfortable on the ground. I can tell his doesn't trust me either. He's smarter than Cato then. I close my eyes and force my breathing to slow down. I won't sleep tonight. I'm too on edge after all that has happened, plus, I don't trust Marvel any farther than I could throw him. Strike that. I could probably throw him a good distance. I just flat out don't trust him.

I feign sleep for so long, Marvel must have reassured himself that I wasn't going to try anything sneaky. He's dozed off with his spear clutched loosely in his left hand. That isn't even his throwing hand. I could kill them all now. I should kill them all now. It would be so easy. I could just stab Clove first, she scares me the most, then take out Cato; he's the biggest physical threat.

Then I remember there are others out there. Our sweet little shadow from Eleven and her giant counterpart. I'm no match for him and I couldn't bring myself to kill Rue. I don't think Katniss could either. Maybe it's best that the Careers stay alive for a few more days. I'll let them pick everyone else off, then kill them in their sleep while we are hunting Katniss.

I am so tired. The sun is climbing in the sky. I don't know when it happened, but somewhere along the line, I fell asleep. I wake up to the sounds of Clove and Glimmer laughing manically.

I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes. Clove is playing a little game, it appears. She's tossing her knives expertly into small animals in our vicinity. Every time one dies, she laughs, along with Glimmer. Marvel is still asleep, drool seeping out the corner of his mouth. I don't know where Cato is. Kole is sharpening her axe. I don't understand why, she hasn't used it yet. Unless she killed someone with it in the blood bath.

Clove sees I am awake. "Well rise and shine, Lover-boy," she says. Her voice is clear and would be very pretty, if it didn't come from such an ugly mouth. I guess Clove would be attractive if you couldn't see the hate and madness in her eyes. I wonder if she's mentally unstable. Wouldn't shock me. She stabs a chipmunk and waves it around, blood pouring over her hands. Yeah, she's crazy.

"Where's Cato?" I say. I can't take my eyes off the chipmunk waving in the air. There is still life in its small body. It twitches every now and then. Clove flicks her knife and the animal falls to the ground. With one swift movement, its head is chopped of.

"Filling the canteens," Clove answers shortly. "Here." She tosses me a chunk of bread.

"What's this?"

"Breakfast, Lover-boy," Glimmer sneers.

Cato comes crashing through the bushes, swinging our canteens from his hand. In his other hand, he's jabbing his spear into the plant life. He wakes Marvel. "Good," he grunts when he reaches us. "You're all up." He tosses our canteens at our feet. "Let's get moving. I want Twelve."

Today, Cato is specifically hunting Katniss down. I gather my things, and while the others are getting ready to move out, Cato saunters over and puts his arm over my shoulders again.

"So, you're little girlfriend," he says, "I'm very interested to learn how she got an eleven."

I know I can't tell him what really happened, not just because it would probably fuel his hatred of Katniss, but because cameras are watching us. My head spins with possible lies. I have to tell Cato something or I will no longer be of use to the Careers.

"She's a hunter," I say.

"Yeah, I got that," Cato snaps. "What did she do? In training, you both looked like little pansies. Then you come up with an eight and start wielding that knife around like a pro. Then she gets an eleven. What. Did. She. Do."

I put on a smile and shrug Cato's arm off me. Then, I place my own around his broad shoulders. "Cato, buddy, you need to relax. She probably started some fires, sliced up a few dummies with a sword. I don't know. She wouldn't tell me. Why do you think I'm standing here with you? Once she got that eleven, I knew I'd have no chance of beating her. Remember our deal. Just relax, man." I let him go and wink at him. Then, since I've gotten pretty handy with this knife, I toss it into a rustling bush. A rabbit falls out, my knife wedged between its shoulder blades. "Have some fun," I say.

* * *

"Cato," Marvel drawls in his District One accent. It's similar to the Capitol accent, but not quite the same. We have been walking most of the day, with only one stop to eat dinner. We haven't seen any other tributes. I've seen signs that Katniss has been close. They've been snares here and there and a bush picked clean of berries. The Careers are so consumed by their blood lust, they haven't noticed these signs. I've managed to divert them off Katniss' trail.

It's night now and Marvel feels the need to complain about something every few minutes. He may be from One and he may have prepared for this his whole life, but One is the luxury district. They are the Capitol's lap dogs just as much as Two is. He might be strong and handy with a spear, but sleeping on the ground, walking for hours at a time, this is all new to him.

"What?" Cato growls.

"I'm sick of this, let's just kill him now. We've been walking in circles. He doesn't know where Twelve is."

I stop and turn to face Marvel. Cato stops and stands next to me. "Listen Marvel," he says, "Until I say we don't need him, Lover-boy stays with us."

"Yeah, and who made you leader?" Marvel snaps back.

"Look," Cato says. He steps towards Marvel, the point of his spear in the boys face. "Do you have any clue where Twelve is?"

"No," Marvel answers, pushing Cato's spear away. In a flash, the tip is back between his eyes.

Cato's voice is so low, I can barely hear him. "Then the boy stays." Cato turns and is leading us back through the forest. I turn to follow him but Marvel shoves me in the back and I fall to the ground. Cato wheels back around. He hefts me up by my arm. I brush the dirt off my face. "You gonna let him do that to you?" Cato asks.

Marvel is looking at me. He has a sick smile and his hands are on his hips. "Yeah, what are you gonna do about it Lover-boy?"

This has got to be a joke. I look from Marvel to Cato. This is a test. I have to prove I'm one of them. Killing that girl the other night wasn't enough. I take my knife from my belt and with a flourish, I am holding it expertly between my fingers. I watched Clove do this countless times. It was easy to pick up a little bit of knife twirling from her. I walk towards Marvel until I'm inches from his face.

"Listen One. I'm part of your little alliance, so get used to it. I'm not going anywhere. Not until Katniss is gone." My heart is pounding and I can feel the sweat beads on my forehead. I'm thankful it's dark so Marvel can't see the signs of a lie.

Marvel's smile falters. "Whatever," he pushes past me and takes off into the woods.

Cato laughs, then follows. He soon overtakes Marvel and is back in the lead. I wait until everyone else has begun to follow before I finally fall in step behind them. This is exhausting. All the lies. All the acts. I've never wished death upon anyone before but I hope we come across some other tributes soon. The sooner these Games are over, the better.

We walk on until the sun starts spreading its fingers over the horizon. This time, I notice the signs of a fire up ahead. The orange glow is far off, but the gray haze around it tells me it's not the sun rise.

"Cato," I say. I stop. The others all turn to me. I nod my head in the direction of the fire.

Cato smiles. "Nice job, Lover-boy." He actually gestures for me to take the lead and I guide the wolf pack towards our next victim.

The closer we get to the fire. The dimmer the glow becomes. It's as if one moment the fire was there and the next it vanished. A light smoke hangs in the air. This is not smoke from a campfire. I am beginning to think that this was one of the Gamemakers' manipulations of the arena when I see a figure crouched in a pool of water. I feel Cato tense next to me. His breathing is fast and his eyes are wide with excitement. Clove steps next to him and the two exchange a look. Then, Clove practically giggles.

"What?" I whisper.

Cato turns to me and I've never seen such an evil look before. I can't help but shrink back. "Well done, Lover-boy." Clove giggles again. I squint through the smoke and that's when I realize; the tribute sitting in the pool of water is Katniss. I have led them straight to Katniss. I'm biting my cheek. Otherwise I might scream or cry or I don't even know what. Cato shifts his spear into an attacking position and then takes off. The others are on his heels. I chase after them, as fast as I can make myself go.

My heart is thumping so loud, it's the only sound that fills my ears. I see Katniss look up at us, her eyes widen. I feel sick but I keep running. If I can just get in front of the Careers, I can throw myself over Katniss and protect her. And then what? They'll just kill me and then have a clear shot at her. My mind is racing.

Katniss jumps to her feet. I can tell she is hurt. She is limping and holding her hands close to her body. Still, she is fast and I'm relieved when she begins scaling a tree. Cato lunges forward even faster, Clove on his heels. Marvel, Glimmer, and Kole have fallen behind and I over take them, determined to reach Katniss before Cato.

By the time we are at the base of her tree, she is at least twenty feet up. I breathe a sigh a relief but mask it as a pant. Cato is looking livid. Clove's eyes are narrow slits. I hear the others stumble to a halt behind us.

That's when Katniss looks down at us. Did I say I felt sick earlier? Well that's nothing to how I feel now. Her leg is burned, badly. Her hands are a mass of red, blistered skin and she has countless cuts and bruises. Still her spirit remains intact. Up in that tree, she is where she belongs. She smiles down at us. "How's everything with you?"

Cato smiles back at her. "Well enough. Yourself?" He is eyeing her injuries with satisfaction.

"It's a bit warm for my taste." She gestures around her, not losing her grip on the tree. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?"

"Think I will," Cato answers. Oh God. He'll climb up there and stab her. Then he'll throw her down to the ground and stab her again. Then he'll kill her. I think my heart's stopped. I really can't feel anything besides the fear knotted in my stomach like a parasite.

Glimmer hands Cato the bow and arrow. Killing Katniss with her own weapon will surly be a treat. I can't watch this. I can't climb trees. I've never been able to. I tried once. I wanted to impress Katniss. I had followed her out into the woods. I slipped under the fence. I climbed the smallest tree I could find. An apple tree, just like in my backyard. I would pick apples for her. I got to the first branch before I lost my balance and nearly broke my leg. There's no way I could scale this skyscraper of a tree before Cato. There's no way I could reach Katniss and protect her from these monsters. I take one last look at her, then avert my eyes. I concentrate on cleaning my knife with the edge of my shirt. I am forcing my breathing to be slow and even, despite my heart thumping against my chest. I blink a little more than necessary, to hold the tears back.

"No." I hear Cato say. From the corner of my eye I see him push away Glimmer's bow. He pulls a sword out of a sheath from his waist. A sword? I though Cato preferred spears. He must be hiding his true talents. "I'll do better with my sword." He grips it firmly in his hand, then grabs onto a branch just above his head. He hauls himself up into the tree. I hear the sound of two bodies scrambling up the tree. One is swift and fast. Katniss. The other is crashing between branches, rambling on like a grizzly bear. Cato. I guess he's about nine feet up when I hear the crack. He falls to the ground. I bite back a smile.

"Damn it!" Cato swears. He rubs his neck. "Someone get up there!"

It is decided that Glimmer should try next. She puts the bow over her shoulder and scales the tree, following Cato's path. I finally turn my eyes back to the tree and watch Glimmer climb. She gets much higher than Cato but soon the branches crack under her weight as well. She stops, arms the bow, and fires.

Again, I hold back a smile. Glimmer misses and Katniss manages to grab the arrow. I am pleased when she waves it tauntingly in the air, about twenty feet above Glimmer's head. Glimmer growls and then climbs back down to rejoin the rest of us.

"What the hell was that?" Cato asks.

"Oh like you did better!" Glimmer snaps back. "You get up there and shoot her!"

"None of us can reach her," Clove hisses. "She's too high and too light. None of us can climb that high."

"Well we're not just gonna sit here and stare at her, are we?" Marvel asks. "I mean she's right there!"

"Oh, let her stay up there." I'm surprised the words have left my mouth. Now that they have, my strength has returned. The ball of anxiety in my stomach is gone and my heart is beating normally. As long as she is in that tree, Katniss is safe. They'll have to knock the tree down before they get her out of it. I eye Kole's axe nervously. I don't think it's big enough to take down this big of a tree. I feel the others looking at me. The hate is back in Marvel's eyes and I can tell Clove is dissecting my words, searching for my intent. Hastily, I add, "It's not like she's going anywhere. We'll deal with her in the morning."

After a painstakingly long silence, Cato mumbles his agreement and the others nod in consent. I let out a slow, relieved breath. We all make a camp at the foot of the tree and for awhile, all the Careers do is stare at Katniss. I can't bring myself to look at her. What she must think of me! Lying, vile, traitor, the list goes on. She must hate me. No time to worry about that now. Now, I need to focus on getting the Careers off her tail and back on the tail of the other tributes. This seems an impossible task.

As night falls, the Careers relax, confidant in the fact that they will have Katniss dead at their feet in the morning. They eat dinner, but I am far too nervous to eat. I manage to join in on their conversations and force down some food, only to appear at ease. My mind is consumed with schemes to get the Careers away from this tree. Again, I think about killing them in their sleep, but I'm sure at least Cato will remain awake tonight. His hatred of Katniss will keep him awake. He will be driven mad by the fact that she is just out of his reach.

Cato lies down, Clove resting on his arm, but I can tell he's not asleep. For one, he's not snoring like he was the other night. Two, his breath is not slow and deep like it should be with sleep. Clove, however, falls right to sleep in Cato's embrace. Her knife is still clutched in her hand. I have to wonder if Cato and Clove aren't trying to play up some type of romance since my love for Katniss had such an effect on the audience. But, I don't think Cato and Clove are that smart. Their mentors might be, but they aren't.

Marvel and Glimmer are the next to fall asleep. Kole stays awake and I know she is watching me. Cato is too consumed by his hatred of Katniss to guess at my next move, but Kole's mind is still ticking away, trying to figure me out. I wonder why Marvel hasn't jumped down my throat yet. After all, I was the one to suggest we leave Katniss alone for the time being.

Night has fallen. Cato has fallen into a light sleep, waking every few minutes. I keep my eyes open, but lie still. I feign sleep once more until I have lured Kole into a sense of security. Once I hear her soft breathing, I finally turn my gaze to the spot where Katniss is nestled in the tree. I can see the dark outline of her figure, but I can't see her face. I doubt she's asleep. She is still though, her head tilted to the next tree over. I wonder if she's contemplating jumping from tree to tree. With that nasty wound on her leg, I doubt she would manage that. I wonder how she got so badly injured. That orange glow, the smoke. Did the Gamemakers try to light her on fire? Katniss, the girl literally on fire. The thought makes me sick. I hope she is all right. I hope her burns don't get infected.

The anthem plays. Clove grunts in her sleep and Marvel rolls over. Kole wakes to watch the recap of the dead. No one has died today. Cato wakes as well. I know he is furious that Katniss' face isn't plastered across the sky tonight. I shut my eyes, hoping Kole and Cato think I'm asleep. I wait for them to settle back down. As the anthem fades out, I open my eyes.

Katniss is gone! I dig my nails into the palm of my hand to prevent myself from jumping up and searching for Katniss. I closed my eyes for a minute! Not even the full length of the anthem. How has she disappeared so quickly?

Relief floods over me. I see her slinking her way through the branches, back to where she should be. She had simply moved to another branch. But why? What is she planning? Whatever it is, I hope it works. I can't think of anything to get the Careers away from this tree. They are locked onto her scent. Their hatred is so deep, there's no way I will pry them away from this tree.

Night goes on. Stars twinkle in the black, velvet sky. My eyes don't leave Katniss. I am exhausted. My confrontation with Marvel, running through the woods, my lack of sleep the night before. My body will soon cave and force sleep upon me. But not tonight. I stare at the black shadow that is Katniss. I am determined to make sure she makes it through the night. Clove is tiny. I wouldn't put it past her to wake up any second now, select a knife from her arsenal, and scale the tree. She would take the task of killing Katniss away from Cato, who so badly wants it.

But I am wrong. Clove stays nestled on the ground besides Cato. None of the Careers wake. And why should they? They believe Katniss already dead. She is caught with no way out.

As dawn approaches, my eyes sting. I am so tired, but I will not sleep. Not until Katniss is safe and the Careers are away from here. I watch Katniss stir as the sun illuminates the forest. She leaves her branch again and I see that she does have a way out. Katniss creeps to a branch several feet away from her. I see the tracker jacker nest and the knife in her hands. She plans to drop the nest on us and slip away in the confusion.

Even though I know the outcome of Katniss' escape plan, I smile. She'll get away. I know it. Maybe I can get head start without waking the Careers. I could avoid most of the swarm and maybe make it out of this without too many stings.

I watch as several tracker jackers emerge from their nest and attack Katniss. _Come on._ The branch is almost severed. The nest will soon drop._ Come on, Katniss. Almost there._ I tense up; ready to flee the second the nest falls.

And it does. It crashes through the branches. Tracker jackers flee the falling nest. I can hear them buzzing. I jump to my feet and start running. The others aren't so lucky. I hear Cato swat away a few tracker jackers before I hear him lumbering along behind me. A few tracker jackers stray from the swarm and I feel sharp stings on the back of my neck and one on my shoulder. But I keep running. I can feel the venom clouding my senses. Pink bubbles are floating around me, but I grit my teeth and hide myself in Katniss' pond. The pests leave me alone and follow Cato and now Marvel who is yelling, "To the lake!"

I watch as Clove, who was roughly tossed aside when Cato fled, springs up and sprints into the trees. Glimmer is slow to stand and a great majority of the swarm descends upon her. She is screaming and swatting at the tracker jackers. Large boils form where the pests sting her. All her beauty is gone. She is screaming and I know the venom is taking effect. She calls for help but is carrying on about the purple slime that is apparently engulfing her. For a second, I think she's right, but I shake the vision from my mind. It's just the venom. There's no slime.

Kole wasn't lucky either. She managed to escape the scene, but I hear her scream not far off. I hear a thud and I assume she falls to the ground. There's another thud and Glimmer falls. I watch Glimmer die. It is slow and she is twitching. Even though I hate her, even though she is a Career, I feel sick watching this. I want to go and slit her throat, to end her suffering, but I dare not move. Stray tracker jackers are buzzing around, but most of the swarm has taken off to finish killing Kole.

I look up into the tree and watch as Katniss descends swiftly. When she drops to the forest floor, she looks at Glimmer's dying body. She sways on the spot and I know she's battling her own hallucinations. I swat away a mockingjay, pecking at my ear, before I realize I still have my hallucinations to deal with. I drag myself out of the pond. It tries to drag me back in with fists of water clenched around my ankles. No. That's not real.

I am on my feet. Katniss is struggling with something under Glimmer's body. The bow. Her weapon. Weapon. Oh no. I look around. Cato's spear and sword. Kole's axe. Clove's vest of knives. Surely the Careers will come back for their precious instruments of murder. I force myself forward. I have to get Katniss out of here before the Careers come back. Just as I reach her, I hear someone lumbering back towards us. It's probably Cato. He won't be humiliated and lose his weapons all in the same day.

I stumble forward and manage to grab Marvel's spear. I have to defend Katniss somehow. The clouds swirling around my head are really going to impair my aim, though. Katniss looks at me, her face full of confusion. Her eyes are unfocused. She probably thinks I'm a hallucination.

"What are you still doing here?" I hiss at her. I shake my head and force the visions from my mind. I hear Cato's rambling gait getting closer and closer. "Are you mad?" I want to pull her from the ground and force her on, but it takes all my energy to grip the spear and keep the hallucinations from my eyes. Cato must be here by now. I prod Katniss with my spear. "Get up! Get up!" I can hear the panic in my voice. Cato's footsteps are right behind me. I hear him crash through the bushes.

"Twelve! What are you doing?" I hear him yell. "Kill her!"

"Run!" I am screaming. Katniss stumbles to her feet and I push her. "Run!"

Cato is descending on me. I can hear him swearing and growling. I watch Katniss disappear into the woods. I tighten the grip on my spear and turn to face the wrath of Cato. He lumbers forward. I can feel the madness emanating from him.

"You let her get away!" He yells. He bends down and grabs his sword. I can't move. I need to run. He is going to kill me. But I can't move. "Damn you, Peeta!" He yells. Spittle is dripping from his mouth. He really looks like a rabid dog now. He has a collar with gleaming spikes. It is connected to a leash, held by Seneca Crane. No, no. That's not real.

Cato is in my face. "You will regret this." He grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me even closer. As he yells, spit showers my face. "You will die. Long, slow, and painful. And I swear to you, because of what you've done, her death will be even worse." His voice is a low whisper. He throws me to the ground and raises his sword. "Good riddance, Lover-boy."

Cato brings the sword down in one swift motion. I see the glint of the blade in the sun before he slices through my leg. I scream. The swipe through my leg was easy for Cato, like a warm knife through butter. Ha. Knife through butter. I'm still making baking references.

Cato smirks at me, spits in my face, and walks away. I hear him pick up the rest of the weapons and take off into the woods. I lay my head back, gritting my teeth through the pain searing through my leg. I feel warm blood pool around me. My blood. My wound is severe, but I will not die. Not yet. A wound to the leg isn't fatal. I'll die from blood loss or dehydration or starvation. There's infection too. That's what'll get me. A long, drawn out death from infection. I wipe Cato's spit from my face and with an agonizing effort, roll to my stomach. "Damn you, Cato."


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Thanks for the reviews! =] I own nothing!**

Chapter Thirteen:

I am lying on my stomach. Blood is seeping from my leg, soaking me in the warm, sticky substance. The pain is agonizing. My breath comes in short, painful gasps. I am vaguely aware that I am out in the open, an easy target for another tribute. I lift my head and open my eyes. The forest is spinning around me. I shake my head to clear my vision and am met with a squirrel licking my blood from the forest floor. He sparkles in the sunlight. Great. I'm still hallucinating. I push myself into a sitting position. I have to bite my cheek to prevent myself from screaming out in pain. I need to check my leg; see how bad the wound is before I plan my next move. Protecting Katniss is out of the question now, but I'm not going to give Cato the satisfaction of killing me. I will not roll over and play dead.

At the sight of my leg, I almost pass out. Cato has sliced right down to the muscle. The wound is shining with blood. Silver spiders are crawling from the cut and scuttling around my feet. Wait, no. That has got to be a hallucination. I'm so nauseous now, I can't tell what's real and what's not.

The bleeding is slowing down. The pain is still intense. I've been biting my cheek so hard, blood is now filling my mouth. I spit the blood from my mouth and take my sock off my foot. I ball it up and shove it in my mouth. Biting on the sock helps me deal with the pain. Next I take off my other sock. This is agonizing because I have to bend my injured leg to reach my foot.

I wrap this sock around my wound and, though the blood has slowed, the sock is instantly soaked. The pressure of the sock around my leg seems to relive some of the pain. Some. It still hurts like hell. And I am exhausted. The effort of keeping myself conscious has really taken a toll. I can't force the hallucinations from invading my mind now. The spiders are forming into a mockingjay. They join in the sparkly squirrel and drink my blood.

I am still aware of the fact of how exposed I am. I need to get out of here. I need to hide and sleep off the tracker jacker venom. I bite down on my sock and roll over again. Tears come to my eyes as a searing pain spreads from my wound, up my back, and into my neck. I can't really feel anything below my thigh. I don't know if that's good or bad. I have to drag myself across the ground. Walking is definitely out of the question. Dragging an open cut along the forest floor is definitely not a wise decision, but I have no choice. There's no other way I can move.

I begin to crawl, inch by inch, away from the fallen tracker jacker nest. The adrenalin pumping through my veins masks much of the pain. But it still hurts. As soon as the shock of my injury wears off I will be in for a world of hurt. I manage to crawl three feet before I have to stop. I rest my head on my hands. I am panting like I've just run a marathon.

I start crawling again. I get a few more feet away from the tree. I stop again and rest. This goes on for what feels like hours. Maybe it is. My sense of time is really screwed up right now. I finally manage to pull myself into the safety of some kind of bush. It is large enough to cover me without having to curl myself up. I take my jacket off and cover my leg with it. Then, I lay my head back and let myself pass out.

The tracker jacker venom leads me into some of the worst nightmares I've ever had. I watch Katniss volunteer over and over again. When she climbs the stage, Effie turns into a fire-breathing monster and begins to devour her. Or Effie turns into Cato who skins Katniss alive. Then, Gale is over me holding Clove's knives. He is yelling at me for letting Katniss die. He blames me for her death. He carves into my skin, smiling. Next, Cato has me on strings. I am his puppet. I watch, as if from another body, as he forces me to mutilate Katniss.

When I finally awake, I am drenched in sweat and my face is stained with tears. I'm not surprised to find myself moaning Katniss' name. The sock has rolled out of my mouth and I can't see where it went. I prop myself up on my elbows and look around me. Through the branches of my bush, I can see that the sun is up. I wonder how long I've been asleep.

I am so sore and in such pain, I have to drop back down onto my back. I don't dare look at my leg again for fear I'll pass out. It hurts like a pain I've never experienced before. I still can't feel anything below the wound and I wonder if Cato has severed some of my nerves. Even though I feel like I'm on fire, I am shivering. I'm really thirsty and hungry too. I have no food, no water. Nothing.

I lie on the ground for most of the day, slipping in and out of sleep. As my mind focuses, I am more aware of the pain in my leg. I finally lift my jacket and look at Cato's handiwork. I have to choke down my own vomit. It's disgusting. There is a layer of dried blood over the wound and puss is starting to ooze from under the scabbing. The skin is red and black and all kinds of nasty colors. I drop my jacket back over my leg and slowly, with tremendous effort, lift my leg in the air. I tie the sleeves of my jacket around my thigh, to hold my makeshift bandage in place.

I am so exhausted from this simple task, I have to sleep for a few minutes. When I awake, night has fallen. The anthem plays. No faces appear in the sky. No one has died. So, I've been out for at least a day or I'd have seen Glimmer and… I'm so out of it I don't remember Four's name. I briefly wonder how Cato, Clove, and Marvel fared after the tracker jacker attack but I don't dwell on them for long.

My main concern is Katniss. I remember pushing her into the forest before Cato attacked me. Then, I think Cato went off in the opposite direction. I'm pretty sure he did. So, Katniss should still be alive. If the tracker jacker venom didn't do her in. She was only stung a few times. About as much as I was. She should be all right. She'll hang on. My mother's words echo in my head. _She's a survivor._

For some reason I am crying. I don't know if the thought of Katniss or my mother set me off. I fumble with the collar of my shirt and find the locket. I pull it over my head and bring the gold necklace to my face. It's too dark and I can't see the pictures inside, but for some reason, I know the thought of my mother is what set me off.

_Are you happy now?_ I think._ I'm lying here, dying, and not once have you ever said you loved me! You gave me this locket but you couldn't even look me in the eye when you did._ Tears are falling freely now and I stuff my fist in my mouth to prevent myself from crying out. _You're right. She's a survivor. I'm not._ I go from sad to hurt to angry in a matter of seconds. I stuff the locket into a pocket of my pants. Then, my thoughts shift to my father. I feel I've disappointed him. Katniss is out there, alone, and I'm here dying in a bush. I've failed to keep her safe. Sure, I got her away before Cato showed up. But now, she has nothing between her and the Careers. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

I don't know how long I lie awake crying but eventually I fall asleep again. In the morning, most of the pain is gone. I don't think this is a good sign. I don't bother to check on my leg. It's not going to be getting any better. What I need now is water. My throat is so dry.

I can't stop myself from mumbling my mentor's name. "Haymitch," I groan. "Please, help me." I wait in silence. A minute passes. Two. Three. Ten. Twenty. Nothing. Not a single gift from a sponsor. I punch the ground and swear to myself. He's probably too busy making sure Katniss is okay. My anger subsides and I realize I'm perfectly fine with that fact. I'm as good as dead; he should focus all his energy on Katniss and her sponsors.

I think it's about sun high. I can't really tell from my position in the bush and I've been so out of it the past few days, I have no grasp on time. Using my good leg, I push myself onto my stomach and crawl out from under the bush. I need water. I am so thirsty. I don't care if I have to drag myself all the way back to the lake, I _need_ water.

I am crawling blindly through the forest. I have no clue where I'm going but it's going to take me hours to get there. I don't try and walk, I'm too scared of what will happen if I do. For hours I inch along. I don't see signs of any other tributes, except for a thin trail of smoke creeping up towards the sky. It is a good distance off so I'm not worried.

I hear the soft tinkling of water over rocks. Water! I stop, catch my breath, and pinpoint the source of the sound. There must be a stream or something nearby. I slowly edge along, towards salvation. As I pull myself through the dirt, I see the signs of a second fire. This one is even further away. I can't help but think these fires are suspicious but I don't have time to ponder their purpose. I keep edging along and soon, I am sliding through mud towards the bank of a small stream.

I let myself roll down to the water's edge. It hurts something awful, but I don't care. I dip my face in the water and gulp down a mouthful of the cool liquid. I don't even care that I haven't purified it. I'm just so thirsty.

Once I've had my fill. I roll onto my back and look around me. There are rocks a few yards away from me, stacked high along the river bed. Mud is plentiful around the stream. I could easily conceal myself in the rocks and then camouflage myself with mud. But not now. Now, I'm too tired. I rest on the water's edge and drift into sleep.

What sounds like an explosion wakes me up. The sound is distant but I can tell that someone has set off the Careers booby trap back at camp. I hope it isn't Katniss. It's not. I'm sure of it. She wouldn't be fooled so easily. I'd love it to be Cato, stomping around in some angry fit.

I lay awake for awhile, sipping water and trying to guess at the actions of my fellow tributes. Katniss is no doubt in a tree, feasting on squirrels or something. Cato is probably going mad trying to find her. Clove too. Glimmer's dead. Kole's dead. I wonder what Marvel and Three are doing. I'm not sure who all is left. There's Rue, I think. And her fellow tribute from Eleven. I haven't seen either of them since the start of the Games. Then a cannon goes off and I wonder whose dead now.

Thinking about the others soon gets boring and thinking about Katniss just makes me worry. I take the locket out of my pocket and finally look at the pictures inside. One is of my father. This brings tears to my eyes. He is smiling; a wide, warm smile. I've only seen a true smile from my father on rare occasions. Not that he was unhappy… just… he never got over the heartbreak of Katniss' mom. The other picture is of my brothers and me. We are young and I don't remember having this picture taken. Photographs are a pretty expensive thing back in Twelve. I must only be three years old in this picture. My mother must have love for me, somewhere in her heart. Why else would this picture be there? Hutch and Riley look so happy, so innocent. I can't remember the last time I've see my brothers look like that. Ever since we became of reaping age, our eyes have lost that childlike twinkle and innocence. Gazing upon the locket only causes a dull pain in my heart so I slip the necklace back over my head.

The sun is starting to go down. I feel rested enough to go hide myself among the rocks. I heave myself onto my stomach and half drag, half crawl to a small opening between two large boulders. It is just wide enough for me to lie down. I sink down into some mud and then begin to plaster my exposed areas with the stuff. The mud is cool and feels good on my leg and my tracker jacker blisters. By the time the sun has slipped below the horizon, I am invisible.

The anthem plays and I see Three's face in the sky. Three is dead. I wonder who killed him. Is the alliance between the Careers over already? Maybe. There are only three of them left now. Marvel, Clove, and Cato. Some of the anxiety clutching my stomach fades when the anthem fades out and Katniss has not been displayed for the whole arena to see.

The mud helps keep me warm through the night, but it also soothes the searing pain in my leg. Still, it is the middle of the night before I can finally get to sleep.

When I awake, it's the gnawing hunger that hurts, not my leg. I realize I haven't eaten in at least three days. I have no food with me and it will be impossible for me to go looking for food. To distract myself from my hunger, I try and figure out who is left. Me. Katniss. Cato. Clove. Surely the boy from Eleven and Rue are still alive. There should be one other alive. I can't remember who it is. Not Glimmer, not either of the tributes from Three, not Kole or her counterpart. I really can't recall who all is dead and which tribute should still be alive. It doesn't help that I can't ignore my growing hunger and I have the matter of a giant, throbbing gash in my leg. My head hurts too. God, I hate Cato.

A cannon goes off and I briefly wonder who it's for. A short while later, another goes off. Well, at least all this action will keep the Gamemakers from manipulating the field so the tributes are closer together. I just hope neither of those cannons were for Katniss.

As the day wears on, I begin to realize the full effect of Cato's attack. I am starting to feel hot and dizzy and I'm sure I have a fever. I am no longer hungry; in fact the thought of food makes my stomach feel even worse. The puss oozing from my leg is sticky, yellow, and smells something awful. I have to brush flies off my wound every now and then. I feel horrible. I hate Cato so much right now. I hope Katniss kills him.

I fade in and out of consciousness throughout the day. It's not really sleep because I don't feel rested when I wake up. Eventually the line between my dreams and reality blurs and I don't really know what's going on. I just lie in the mud, trying not to think about the agonizing pain all over my body.

Night falls after what feels like eternity. I am vaguely aware of the anthem playing. I am brought to full attention when Marvel's weasel like face is projected across the sky. Marvel is dead! Surely the alliance has ended now. The only thing that would make this day better is if the second face I see is Cato's. But it isn't.

I feel a stab in my heart when Rue's face appears. I had never met her, never talked to her. But she looked so sweet and innocent. Katniss liked her, too. If Katniss wasn't in these Games, I'd want Rue to win. I can't help but cry for Rue, for her family. Then I think back to the girl I helped Cato kill. Who am I to decide that Katniss should live instead of all these other kids? That girl could have had a sister, just like Katniss. She could have had brothers. What if her family depended on her for food, just like Katniss'? And then I go and take that away from them. I am crying harder now and I feel so sick, the urge to vomit is overwhelming. But there is nothing in my stomach to throw up. I take deep calming breaths and try to relax. The anthem has finished playing but something is still going on. I pay attention, if only to get my mind off the fact that I am a murderer.

The commentator for the Games is speaking. I can't remember his name right now. I hear what he's saying without fully listening. He repeats himself. I can't believe my ears. I must be delusional from all my injuries. He's saying if the last two tributes are from the same district, both can survive. Both can win the Games.

"Katniss." I am moaning her name over and over. I can't believe it! My ruse must have worked! The Capitol people must have been so invested in our story, our relationship, that having one of us die would just make the Games a failure this year. "Katniss." I want to get up. I want to go find her. Now. But I can hardly move from my mud hole. Katniss is a hunter. She will track me. She will find me. I just wish I hadn't camouflaged myself so well.

There's nothing I can do about the mud now. Maybe tomorrow I'll crawl back down to the stream and clean myself off. Right now, I need to sleep. I am so exhausted. Hope fills my chest and I don't feel as terrible as I did a few moments ago. I fall asleep quickly.

Though my sleep was haunted by nightmares, I fell more rested than I have in days. I can tell I've been crying in my sleep. My eyes are puffy and itch. I kept seeing Rue's face. She turned into Prim who then turned into Katniss. And then that girl who's life I took. She kept appearing over and over. I am starting to feel sick again. Well, I've pretty much felt sick since Cato stabbed me. But now I feel worse.

I shake myself and force the visions of Rue and the other girl from my mind. Today, Katniss will find me. I close my eyes and picture her face, singing the Valley Song.

I can't concentrate on Katniss' face for long. Soon, the pain throughout my body is too intense. I have gone back to biting my cheek and I can taste blood in my mouth. The sense of hope I had last night vanishes in an instant. Even if Katniss finds me, I am so sick I don't see how I can last 'til the end of the Games. And if I did, I don't think Portia's magic gel could fix my leg.

Around midday, I hear the light footsteps of what must be Katniss. I open my eyes and squint through the sunlight. There she is. She is so beautiful, framed by the sun. She's a little ways off but I can tell she's on my scent. My heart swells with so many emotions. I want to scream out her name but I'm so tired. As she gets closer, I manage to get out, "You here to finish me off, sweetheart?"

Katniss stops dead. Her eyes widen and she's looking around, trying to locate the sound of my voice. "Peeta? Where are you?" She takes a few steps closer to me. I tense up as she's very close to stepping on my leg. "Peeta?"

"Well don't step on me," I say.

Katniss lets out a gasp of surprise and jumps back. I actually have enough energy to laugh. "Close your eyes again," she says. I obey and feel a sense of pride when she says, "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off."

"Yes, frosting." I smile but there's sadness behind it. "The final defense of the dying."

A shadow crosses Katniss' face, but it is gone quickly. Firmly, she says, "You're not going to die."

"Says who?" I gasp.

"Says me." Her tone reassures me. At least she is here with me. Her voice seems to ease some of the pain. I feel like I could fall asleep right now and not have to deal with any pain or nightmares. "We're on the same team now, you know," Katniss continues.

"So, I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me." My voice cracks with lack of use and my throat starts searing again. I really need some water. As if reading my mind, Katniss pulls out a bottle of water and helps me drink some.

"Did Cato cut you up?" She asks.

"Left leg," I gasp between mouthfuls of water. "Up high."

"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see what kind of wounds you've got," says Katniss.

"Lean down a minute first. Need to tell you something." Katniss leans in close to me and though she is dirty and bruised, my breath catches in my throat. Her eyes are so soft. She puts her ear to my lips and her hair brushes against my face. My heart is racing. "Remember," I say, "We're madly in love, so it's all right to kiss me anytime you feel like it."

She pulls away and gives a light laugh. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." We smile at each other and then she begins the task of getting me to the stream. I haven't moved in so long, it hurts just to sit up. Katniss grabs me under the arms and starts to pull me from the mud. All I can do is lie in her arms as she tugs me free from my hiding spot. It is agonizing and I am gnawing on my other cheek now, since the one I had been chewing is so raw. I try and keep quiet but a few shouts of pain escape me. I don't bother to hide the tears.

When I am finally free from the mud, I lie on the ground, panting. I have exerted no physical effort but the pain is so overwhelming. I grit my teeth and fight to stay conscious.

"Look, Peeta," Katniss says. I open my eyes an turn my face to her. "I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, okay?"

"Excellent," I say. I am burning up again. Sitting in the water will feel so good.

Katniss crouches down besides me and places her hand under my back. "On three. One, two, three."

Oh God does it hurt. Before I can stop myself, I am moaning with pain. "Argh!" I am panting ridiculously now and I am in such pain, I can't see straight.

"Okay, change of plans. I'm not going to put you all the way in," Katniss says.

"No more rolling?"

"That's all done. Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, okay?"

I nod and Katniss begins to clean me up. She rinses all the mud and dirt from my body and then begins to tackle my clothes. It feels so good to be clean. She has to cut my undershirt off but I really don't care. It hurts when she pulls the fabric off my wounds but once the air hits them, they instantly feel better. Katniss cleans the dirt from my face and I can't help but notice the slight pink tinge to her cheeks as she does so. I like having her face this close to mine. Now would be a good time for that kiss I mentioned. But, she moves behind me and starts to wash my hair. Her fingers along my scalp feel so good. I bite my tongue to prevent myself from moaning with pleasure.

Next, Katniss tackles the tracker jacker stings. She removes the stingers which feels like hell but then puts some kind of leaves on the blisters. I sigh with relief. The leaves work their magic and soon, much of the pain is gone from my stings. Katniss rubs some more stuff on my chest and I have to smile. Her hands feel so good moving across my skin. I am hot, I feel like I'm on fire, but her hands have a different kind of warmth. They are soothing.

She must be able to feel my fever because she pulls out some fever reducing pills. I've hade these a few times when I was younger. "Swallow these," she tells me. I take the pills and swallow, though it hurts my throat to do so. I gulp down some water to wash the pills down. "You must be hungry," Katniss says.

"Not really," I say. I haven't felt hungry all day. Not since my hunger pains woke me up. I really couldn't eat anything right now. The pills are already trying to make a reappearance. "It's funny, I haven't been hungry for days."

Still, Katniss offers me some food. It's some type of bird. Just the sight of it makes my stomach churn. I shake my head.

"Peeta," Katniss' voice is soft but I can hear concern in it. "We need to get some food in you."

"It'll just come back up," I tell her. But she is insistent. Finally, I agree to eat some bits of dried apple. It's not too bad, I know I need food. But as soon as the food hits my stomach, an overwhelming wave of nausea takes me over. I reject any more food. Lying I say, "Thanks. I'm much better, really." I just want to sleep now. "Can I sleep now, Katniss?"

"Soon," she says and I have to groan. "I need to look at your leg first." Well, this should be buckets of fun.

It doesn't hurt too badly. Katniss' hands are gentle and she takes off my boots without much wincing on my part. She slowly tugs my pants off and I hear her gasp when she sees my cut. Her eyes are wide and she has lost the color in her cheeks.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I say.

"So-so." Katniss shrugs. She's not lying very well at the moment. "You should see some of the people they bring to my mother from the mines." Right. Her mother. The healer. I am in good hands. Katniss will at least make me more comfortable if she can't make me better. She continues. "First thing is to clean it well."

She cleans my wound and it stings like nothing I have ever felt before. I do not cry out, though. I can tell this is not Katniss' cup of tea. I don't want to make her any more uncomfortable. When she has finished cleaning, she says, "Why don't we give it some air and then…" She trails off and I practically feel how uncertain she is.

"And then you'll patch it up?" I know full well she can't patch this up. But I love her for trying.

"That's right," Katniss says. "In the meantime, you eat these." She shoves some pears towards me. While I slowly munch on the pears, she examines some kind of medical kit. When the kit fails her, she decides to use some of the leaves she used on my stings. She places them on my cut and pus oozes out almost instantly. Katniss looks as if she's going to pass out.

"Katniss?" I say. She looks at me and I can tell she is worried about me. I am not in good shape. She looks like she's holding back her breakfast. Trying to make her feel better, I mouth, "How 'bout that kiss?"

She is laughing. I can't help but smile. "Something wrong?" I ask.

"I… I'm no good at this," Katniss mutters. "I'm not my mother. I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate puss. Euh!" She scrunches her face up in disgust. Then, as she rinses off the first application of leaves and prepares a second, she groans again. "Euuuuh!"

I can't help but wonder if this is the same Katniss Everdeen that brings down squirrels by shooting them through the eyeball. "How do you hunt?" I ask her.

"Trust me," she answers. "Killing things is much easier than this. Although for all I know, I am killing you."

I know she means it as a joke but I can tell she instantly regrets her words. I laugh. "Can you speed it up a little."

"No." Her cheeks have that pink glow again. "Shut up and eat your pears."

She treats the wound a few more times with the leaves and, although the pain is still there, it feels loads better. "What's next Dr. Everdeen?"

"Maybe I'll put some of the burn ointment on it. I think it helps with infection anyway. And wrap it up?" She says this as a question. I nod because I have no idea what else to do.

The burn ointment stings a little but soon it helps to numb the pain. Katniss then wraps my leg up in some bandages. It feels great, not being exposed. I can see Katniss looking at my dirty shorts next to the stark white bandage.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll clean your shorts." She hands me a backpack.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me," I say. Normally, this situation would make me vastly uncomfortable, but now, I just don't care. All I care about is that she's here, with me. I will die seeing her face.

"You're just like the rest of my family," she says. "I care, all right?" She turns away from me. I take my shorts off and place the backpack between my legs. I toss my shorts to her and they land in the stream.

"You know," I tell her, "You're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person. I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all."

"What's he sent you so far?" Katniss asks.

"Not a thing," I say. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," Katniss says. "Oh, and some bread." She seems embarrassed.

So, he has sent Katniss gifts. I expected as much. Still, it hurts a little knowing he cared enough to send her gifts but not me. Then again, he didn't know about the rule change. He was still on board with keeping her alive, not me. "I always knew you were his favorite," I say.

"Please, he can't stand being in the same room with me."

"Because you're just alike." Katniss doesn't respond and we drop the conversation. Without really trying to, I doze off.

A short while later, I am awakened by Katniss lightly shaking my shoulder. The first thing I see when I open my eyes is her face. This is a wonderful way to wake up.

"Peeta," she says, "we need to go."

"Go?" I am still drowsy. "Go where?"

"Away from here. Downstream maybe. Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger." Oh, right. The Games. Those are still going on. Katniss is still thinking like the hunter she is.

Katniss helps me get dressed and it doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it did taking the clothes off. Clean clothes make me feel refreshed but I am still burning up and feel dizzier than ever. Next, I know I must stand. My face pales at the thought.

"Come on," Katniss reassures. "You can do this."

She helps me stand and then I have to put weight on my leg. A horrible pain shoots up and down my leg. Oh God it hurts so back. My vision has gone blurry again and if I open my mouth I will throw up what little food I have eaten. Clinging to Katniss for dear life, I let her guide me downstream. We get a little ways down, further than I imagined we'd get, before I have to stop. I am swaying in Katniss' arms and black is starting to creep into the corners of my eyes. Katniss helps me to sit down and I close my eyes. The second my weight is off my leg, the pain diminishes. She lets me sit for a while and when I am able to stand, I let her guide me to a cave formed by some rocks. I would let Katniss lead me anywhere.

I rest on the cave floor while Katniss prepares our hiding spot. The sun begins to go down and even though I've been on fire all day, now I am shivering uncontrollably. Katniss tucks me into her sleeping bag and I feel a little better.

"Katniss." The weakness in my voice shocks even myself. Katniss crosses the cave and sits besides me. Her soothing hands brush my hair from my face. "Thanks for finding me," I say.

"You would have found me if you could," she says. Her expression makes my stomach drop. Suddenly she looks scared. She's worried about me. I must be doing worse than I thought.

I take a deep breath. "Yes. Look, if I don't make it back –"

Katniss interrupts me before I can finish. "Don't talk like that," she snaps. "I didn't drain all that puss for nothing."

I smile but continue on. "I know. But just in case I don't –"

"No, Peeta." Katniss puts her hand on my mouth to silence me. "I don't even want to discuss it."

I begin, "But I," And then she is kissing me. Katniss Everdeen is kissing _me._ Despite all the pain, despite my fever and my nausea, I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. Her lips are soft and cool. They press against mine firmly, but not forcefully. Oh my God, it feels so good. My stomach must be doing somersaults. I feel my heart racing. I want more but she pulls away. I know I must be smiling like a lunatic.

"You're not going to die. I forbid it," she says. Her cheeks are the faintest shade of pink. I can't stop smiling. "All right?" She tucks the sleeping bag up under my chin.

"All right," I echo. Katniss leaves the cave and I fall asleep almost instantly. My lips still tingle from our kiss.

I am asleep for maybe a minute when I hear her call my name. "Peeta!" I am so tired. And I feel so good right now, her warmth rushing through me. Then, Katniss is kissing me again. I open my eyes, a bit surprised. I feel my lips stretch in a smile and I am pleased that she is smiling back. "Peeta," she says again. I could listen to her say my name forever. "Look what Haymitch has sent you." She holds up a pot of something that is lightly steaming. It smells delicious but I really don't feel like eating.

"You have it," I say. "I'm not hungry."

"Peeta, this is for you. It'll make you feel better," Katniss says.

"Katniss," I am almost begging. "Please, I'd rather you have it. If I try and eat, I'll just throw up."

Katniss brushes my hair from my face and helps me into a sitting position. "Well, I'd rather you have it."

"Convince me," I say.

Katniss takes a spoon full of the stuff. I think it's broth. It _does_ smell good. She waves the spoon under my nose. My mouth starts to water but by stomach is screaming in protest. Then, she kisses me. "Convinced?"

"Will I get more kisses if I eat?"

She laughs. "We'll see."

"I'll take a bite." I open my mouth and she feeds me a spoonful of broth. We continue on like that; trading kisses for spoonfuls of broth. Eventually, though it takes awhile, I eat everything. I have to admit, I do feel much better. My nausea has lessened. I feel sleepy, but not in the sick and exhausted way I've felt for the past few days. I settle down into the sleeping bag.

"Thank you, Katniss," I say. She responds by placing a hand on my cheek and kissing my forehead. I fall asleep listening to her breathe beside me.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Yeah... uh... I really have no excuse. I got caught up with other stories. Sorry. But here's an update. Please read and review and thanks for those who're still reading this! Thanks for all the favorites, follows, and reviews. I own nothing.**

**Chapter 14:**

Though I sleep for a long time, it's not restful. I feel so much better, Katniss having cleaned me up, fed me, and yes, kissing me; but I know I'm still not very well off. One second I'm burning up, drenched in sweat, the next I'm freezing. I fall in and out of a light sleep through the night, but I never get the restful sleep I so desperately need. Every once in a while, I feel Katniss slip into the sleeping bag beside me. Her weight next to me is comforting and while she's beside me, I can almost forget that we're in the Games.

I don't know what time it is when I wake up. The sun has risen, but I may have slept well into the afternoon. I still feel nauseous and my leg hurts as bad as ever, but what alarms me the most is the fact that Katniss is not next to me. I know she didn't spend the whole night in the sleeping bag, but the last thing I can remember is fitfully trying to sleep with her beside me. Now, she's not there. Panic starts rising in my chest. I try and disentangle myself from the sleeping bag but my leg isn't allowing me to go anywhere.

Just then, a shadow passes over the entrance to our little cave. I turn towards it so fast, I become dizzy. It is Katniss. A wave of relief washes through me and my heart rate returns to normal. Well, as normal as it can be for someone who's dying.

"I woke up and you were gone." My voice still sounds so weak and desperate. "I was worried about you."

Katniss crosses into the cave and gently pushes me back down into the sleeping bag. She lets out a light laugh and though I'm still so hurt and sick, I smile. Her laugh is like music. "You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?"

She's joking but I can't let it go just yet. The panic I felt when I awoke has left a nagging feeling in my stomach and a bad taste in my mouth. "I thought Cato and Clove might have found you. They like to hunt at night." I shudder at the thought. Cato and Clove. Both of whom so badly want her dead. I know Cato has imagined a thousand different ways to kill Katniss. All of which are long, terrible, and painful. And Clove with her jacket of knives. She has a special one for Katniss. I start to feel like I might vomit so I shake the thought of Cato and Clove from my head.

"Clove? Which one is that?" Katniss asks me.

"The girl from District Two." I respond. I try and push Clove's face out of my mind. She's pretty, but in a violent, deadly sort of way. Of course, though, she's nowhere near as beautiful as Katniss. "She's still alive right?" Is it too much to hope she's dead?

"Yes. There's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface."

My brow knits in confusion.

Katniss sees my confusion. "That's what I nicknamed the girl from Five." Katniss settles in a little closer to me. "How do you feel?"

How do I feel? Like I'm dying. My leg still throbs. My head is fuzzy and dizzy. I'm hot and cold at the same time. I'm nauseous but hungry and thirsty. I know Katniss is worried about me. She's a killer, not a healer. She's worried she hasn't done a good enough job fixing me up. And honestly, what could she really do? Cato's wound was meant to kill me. And it will. But I can't tell Katniss that. So instead, I say, "Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud. Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag… and you." Even though I know I'm dying, I really am happy with my current situation. I am here, in this cave, alone with Katniss. My feelings are no longer a secret and beyond my wildest dreams, Katniss feels the same way.

Katniss reaches out to me and brushes my cheek with her hand. I snatch her hand in mine and gently kiss it. I don't care that she's covered in dirt and grime from the Games.

Katniss tugs her hand away from mine. I want more kisses. As if reading my mind, she says, "No more kisses for you until you've eaten."

I want to argue but I know Katniss won't relent until I eat. And I really should eat. Katniss helps me into a sitting position against the cave wall. The rocks aren't very comfortable but they're cool against my back. Katniss stirs something in the pot that Haymitch had sent the broth in. It smells sweet and I think my stomach might be able to actually handle it. Katniss begins spoon feeding me. I feel a little silly, but it is nice having her to take care of me. The berries are good and Katniss has mixed them with water, turning the concoction into some kind of mush that feels good on my throat. She tries to get me to eat some of that strange bird, groosling she calls it, but just looking at it makes me feel even sicker.

Tired of arguing with me, Katniss puts the bird back in her pack. She's not only tired of arguing with me. She looks exhausted. I realize now, she must have been up the whole night, keeping an eye on me and looking out for the other tributes. Then this morning she picked the berries and replenished our water supply while all I've done is lay here and sleep… the gash in my leg gives me an excuse, but still, Katniss needs sleep too.

"You didn't sleep." I say.

"I'm all right." Katniss lies.

The tables have turned. Now I am the one insisting Katniss to do something she doesn't want to do. "Sleep now. I'll keep watch. I'll wake you if anything happens."

Katniss hesitates, looking from the mouth of the cave then back to me.

"Katniss," my voice is softer, "you can't stay up forever."

She caves. "All right. But just for a few hours. Then you wake me." Katniss smooths out the sleeping bag across the cave floor next to me. It's too warm for her to sleep inside, so instead she curls up on top of it. Beside her, she holds her bow, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Beside her, I stretch out my bad leg on the sleeping bag with a groan. I shift a little and get more comfortable before training my eyes on the mouth of the cave. I hear Katniss breathing beside me. Not the steady even breaths of someone who should be sleeping.

"Go to sleep," I softly urge. Still keeping an eye on the cave entrance, I reach out my hand and brush it along her forehead. Her hair is matted and dirty, but still it is soft. I brush it back from her face. I feel Katniss relax beside me and soon she is asleep.

I don't know how much time passes, but I know it's more than just the few hours Katniss wanted to sleep. I don't want to wake her. She looks so peaceful and beautiful while she sleeps. And in her dreams, she is out of the arena and safe. I take turns keeping watch out the cave and gazing down at her face.

Katniss stirs and sits up. "Peeta," she sounds miffed, but her voice is still layered with sleep and it's cute. "You were supposed to wake me up after a couple of hours."

"For what? Nothing's going on here." I say. And it's true. Nothing's happened. I haven't even seen a stray ant cross our path. "Besides," I smile at her, "I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl." Teasingly I add, "Improves your looks a lot."

Katniss of course scowls in response. My smile widens and I laugh. Katniss' scowl deepens and she reaches out and touches my cheek, testing my fever. "Have you been drinking enough water?"

I frown. While I've taken a few sips throughout the day, I haven't been drinking as much as Katniss would like me to drink. My stomach just doesn't want anything in it right now. "I've been drinking some." I answer.

Katniss picks up the water bottles and tests their weight. She knows now I haven't been drinking enough. She orders me to take some more fever medicine and drink some water. Like a hawk, she stands over me while I empty two quarts of water into my stomach.

I can feel the water sloshing around and it's making me sick. But I know I needed to drink it and I know if I had refused, Katniss would have persuaded me to drink it anyway. Maybe even with kisses. Now I'm wishing I put up a fight. Anyway, she tends to my cuts and burns and that takes my mind off my stomach. Her hands feel cool against my burning skin. I like the touch of her skin. It makes me feel better. Then, she unwraps my leg. I can tell neither of us are eager to get a look at it. Katniss' face drops when she sees my leg. I look down at it. There's no more pus but it's swollen more than ever. It looks as bad as it feels. From the wound, I see red marks streaking up my leg. Blood poisoning. Things are not good.

As if to reassure me, Katniss says, "Well, there's more swelling but the pus is gone." Her voice quavers.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss." My voice is flat. "Even if my mother isn't a healer."

Determination is back in Katniss' voice. "You're just going to have to outlast the others, Peeta. They'll cure it back at the Capitol when we win."

She means well, I know. But it is unlikely I'll last until the end of the Games. Still, I say, "Yes, that's a good plan."

"You have to eat," Katniss continues. "Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup."

I think back to that first night when the fire led the Careers and I to the first victim outside of the blood bath. "Don't light a fire. It's not worth it."

"We'll see." Katniss gathers up what she needs to make soup and leaves the cave. I know she is doing this to take care of me, and herself. We need food and water after all, but I'd wish she'd just stay here with me. Having her at my side just feels so good. I feel miserable and I'm in horrible shape, but it's all okay when Katniss is here.

I ease back into a laying position on the sleeping bag. I doze lightly until Katniss returns. I smile when I see her, but I'm too weak to sit up. My fever is back too and even though I know I'm burning up, I'm shivering. Katniss places some cool rags on my head and I feel a little better. The soup must not be ready because she doesn't try and make me eat yet.

"Do you want anything?" She asks.

"No. Thank you." I say. "Wait, yes. Tell me a story." This will keep her around a while and take my mind off my leg. I just want Katniss to stay here.

She seems surprised. "A story? What about?"

"Something happy. Tell me about the happiest day you can remember."

Katniss thinks for a moment then asks, "Did I ever tell you about how I got Prim's goat?" I shake my head and Katniss launches into the story. The story is sweet and I can almost imagine the scene at Katniss' house when Prim got her goat. Katniss tells me about how Prim and their mother instantly went to work on healing the goat's injuries. I understand what the animal must have felt like. I too am in the care of an Everdeen. Wounded, sick, scared. But with a beautiful girl like Katniss here, it makes it better.

"They sound like you," I say. I have only seen Katniss' mother a few times. I've seen Prime a bit more often. At school, walking home with Katniss, peering into out shop window looking at the cakes. I am infinitely thankful for Prim's interest in our cakes. It has allowed me glimpses of Katniss outside of school. Katniss looks nothing like her mother or her sister. She must take after her father. But I know, even though she is a hunter, Katniss is just as caring as her mother and sister. Who else would offer themselves up to take their sister's place in the Hunger Games?

Katniss doesn't agree with me though. "Oh, no, Peeta. They work magic. That thing couldn't have died if it tried." Instantly her face falls.

I smile. "Don't worry. I'm not trying. Finish the story."

"Well, that's it. Only I remember that night, Prim insisted on sleeping with Lady on a blanket next to the fire. And just before they drifted off, the goat licked her cheek, like it was giving her a good night kiss or something. It was already mad about her."

How easy it is to love the Everdeens girls. "Was it still wearing the pink ribbon?" I ask.

"I think so. Why?"

"I'm just trying to get a picture." I know Katniss' life has been hard. Her father's death, her mother's depression, the struggle to feed herself and her sister, and now the Hunger Games. In that moment, Katniss must have been so happy. I would have loved to see her face. "I can see why that day made you happy."

"Well," Katniss says a little smugly, "I knew that goat would be a little gold mine."

I roll my eyes but smile. "Yes, of course I was referring to that. Not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the reaping."

"That goat _has_ paid for itself. Several times over."

"Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life. I intend to do the same thing." If I get out of this. I owe Katniss my life.

"Really?" She asks. "What did you cost me again?"

"A lot of trouble. Don't worry. You'll get it all back." I feel dizzy again. Katniss looks at me like I'm talking nonsense and I realize I don't even understand what I'm saying any more. My fever must be getting worse.

Gently, Katniss says, "You're not making sense." She places a cool hand on my forehead. "You're a little cooler though." She's really not good at lying.

At that moment, trumpets blare. _What now?_ Katniss leaves my side and goes to the mouth of the cave to see what's going on. I still feel dizzy but I heard enough to understand what the message is. There'll be some kind of feast at the Cornucopia in the morning and each tribute will get something they desperately need. What Katniss and I need is a way to fix my leg. I know instantly Katniss will want to go and retrieve whatever it is they'll send to heal me. I pull myself to my feet. I have to bite my cheek to stop myself for crying out. I shuffle to the cave entrance and put a hand on Katniss' shoulder, partly to enforce my words, partly to steady myself.

"No," I say firmly. "You're not risking your life for me." While there very well may be something to fix me at the Cornucopia, there'll also be the others… Cato and Clove, just waiting for a chance to kill Katniss.

"Who said I was?" Katniss says back.

"So, you're not going?" I ask. There's hope in my voice but I know she'll insist.

"Of course, I'm not going," Katniss answers. "Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running straight into some free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid." Katniss is such a terrible liar. I can see it on her face. Before I can argue with her, she's leading me back to the sleeping bag. "I'll let them fight it out, we'll see who's in the sky tomorrow night and work out a plan from there."

She helps me lay down. "You're such a bad liar, Katniss." I say. "I don't know how you've survived this long." Mimicking her voice, I say, "_I knew that goat would be a little gold mine. You're a little cooler though. Of course, I'm not going."_ Katniss frowns at me. "Never gamble at cards," I tell her, "You'll lose you're last coin."

Katniss' frown turns to anger. "All right, I am going, and you can't stop me!"

Now I am angry. She's already done so much for me. I won't let her walk into a trap and get herself killed on the off chance that there might be some medicine for me. "I can follow you. At least partway. I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure."

"You won't get a hundred yards from here on that leg," Katniss argues.

I argue back. "Then I'll drag myself. You go and I'm going, too."

I can tell Katniss is upset. "What am I supposed to do? Sit here and watch you die?"

Now I am the one lying. "I won't die. I promise. If you promise not to go."

Katniss glares at me, knowing we can't argue any more. "Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of the soup no matter how disgusting it is!"

The soup. I had forgotten about that. "Agreed." I say. "Is it ready?"

"Wait here." Katniss is still angry. She stomps out of the cave to retrieve the soup. She's back in a moment and I obediently eat every last bite. It's not the best thing in the world but it's not too bad and it's easy on my stomach. I make sure to tell Katniss that the soup is delicious. I don't think she believes me.

Once I clean the pot, Katniss takes it and leaves me once more to go wash up at the stream. I lean my head back on the sleeping bag and close my eyes. My stomach really doesn't feel too bad. The food is actually helping some of my sickness. But my leg hurts so bad. And now it's just not my leg. The pain is starting to spread up to my hips.

Katniss is back before I know it. She has cleaned the soup put. Something sweet smelling is coming from it. "I've brought you a treat," she says. "I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream."

She begins feeding me and as per my promise, I don't argue. She's mashed up the berries again and they taste very good. There's something familiar about them that I can't place. I must be getting full though, because with every bit I feel more sleepy. "They're very sweet," I say.

"Yes, they're sugar berries." Katniss explains. "My mother makes jam from them. Haven't you ever had them before?"

"No," I say. She gives me another mouthful. "But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?" I've never heard of sugar berries.

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild."

"They're sweet as syrup," I say. Katniss gives me the last bite. Then it hits me. Syrup. She's given me berries, but she's mixed in some sleep syrup. She must have found some in her first aid kit or Haymitch sent her some. She plans to go to the feast at get the medicine for my leg.

I am about to spit the bite out when Katniss lunges at me. She clamps a hand over my mouth and her other over my nose, forcing me to swallow. She releases me an instantly I begin gagging myself, trying to throw up. But of course, now I can't. I feel my eyelids droop. I sway on the spot. I can't believe Katniss did this to me. If she gets herself killed, I'll never forgive myself. I start to go unconscious. I look at her with such disappointment. I can tell it upsets her. I take one look at her face, the last one I may get if she dies out there, before I fall asleep.


End file.
